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ACADEMY    OF 

PACIFIC   COAST 

HISTORY 


ROBERT  A.  ANDERSON 
Early-Day  Indian  Fighter  and   Former  Sheriff  of  Butte  County,  California 


♦— 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks 

Being  a  Personal  Account  of  Campaigns 

Against  Indians  of  the  Northern 

Sierras 


Chico,  California 

The  Chico  Record  Press 
1909 


c;^C;l? 


COPYRIGHTED,   1909,  BY 
R.  A.  ANDERSON. 


/  f  I J 


FIGHTING  THE  MILL  GREEKS 

CHAPTER  I. 

CROSSING  the  plains  in  '57,  I  tried  mining  for 
a  short  time  on  the  North  Fork  of  Feather 
River,  but  soon  continued  my  journey  to  the 
Sacramento  Valley  and  settled  on  Deer  Creek.  With 
broad  plains  to  the  north  and  south  fit  only  for  graz- 
ing purposes,  the  fertile  land  along  the  creek  bottom 
seemed  doubly  attractive,  and  for  several  years  I  en- 
gaged in  gardening.  By  way  of  quick  delivery,  I 
possessed  an  ox  team,  while  my  market  lay  wherever 
buyers  were  to  be  found.  I  made  one  trip  with  my 
vegetables  as  far  away  as  the  mountains  of  Trinity. 

Later  I  sold  out  and  went  into  the  cattle  busi- 
ness. In  1861,  snow  fell  in  the  valley  to  the  depth 
of  six  inches  and  lay  on  for  two  weeks.  That  snow 
put  me  out  of  the  cattle  business. 

During  these  years  Indians  were  numerous. 
Those  who  infested  the  region  where  I  lived  were 
called  Mill  Creeks  or  Deer  Creeks,  the  rough  can- 
yons of  these  two  streams  offering  thousands  of 
hiding  places  to  these  wild  bands.  During  the  winter 
of  1857  they  caused  much  uneasiness  among  the  set- 
tlers. Many  raids  were  made  into  the  valley,  fol- 
lowed always  by  swift  retreats  into  the  hills.  People 


4  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

were  killed,  dwellings  burned,  and  stock  driven  off. 
These  depredations  occurred  usually  along  the  edge 
of  the  valley,  but  extended  on  some  occasions  as  far 
as  the  Sacramento  River. 

This  state  of  things  could  not  continue.  The  In- 
dians, with  the  accustomed  stealth  of  savages,  al- 
ways made  their  attacks  unexpectedly.  Since  the 
settler  could  not  guard  against  surprise,  it  was  de- 
cided to  retaliate  by  carrying  the  war  into  the  In- 
dians' own  territory. 

Jack  Spaulding,  who  claimed  to  have  had  experi- 
ence in  fighting  the  reds,  organized  a  party  of  fifteen 
men  for  the  purpose  of  following  the  marauders  into 
the  hills.  Hi  Good  and  myself  were  members  of  this 
party.  Good,  whose  acquaintance  with  the  hills  was 
extensive,  was  elected  Lieutenant,  while  Spaulding 
acted  as  Captain. 

We  knew  that  to  beat  the  savages  we  must  out- 
play them  at  their  own  game ;  therefore,  we  traveled 
by  night,  lying  over  in  the  daytime.  Passing  north- 
easterly over  the  foothills  we  kept  to  the  broad  ridge 
between  Deer  Creek  and  Mill  Creek,  this  being  the 
ridge  along  which  the  Lassen  Trail  leads. 

After  two  night  of  travel  we  reached  old  Bluff 
Camp,  which  was  one  of  the  stopping  places  of  the 
early  emigrant  trains.  It  lies  in  the  midst  of  a  vast 
forest  just  over  the  ridge  on  the  Mill  Creek  slope. 

Here  we  found  considerable  snow  still  lying  on 
the  cool  floor  of  the  pinery,  and  signs  of  the  Indians 
were  numerous.  They  had  been  about  the  spring  in 
considerable  numbers,  and  the  greenest  scout  in  our 


Fig'hting  the  Mill  Creeks.  5 

party  could  easily  discover  their  trails  leading 
through  the  forest. 

We  were  taken  into  a  steep,  sheltered  ravine, 
where  it  was  thought  we  would  be  hidden ;  then  Good 
and  Spaulding  set  out  on  a  still  hunt  to  try  and  lo- 
cate the  Indians'  camp. 

Our  leaders  had  been  gone  but  a  short  time  when 
the  mountains  on  both  sides  of  us  suddenly  began  to 
blaze  with  rifle  shots,  the  reports  booming  heavily 
through  the  dense  forest.  The  Indians  had  taken 
the  first  trick.  To  say  that  we  were  a  startled  lot  of 
man-hunters  would  be  to  put  it  mildly.  I  frankly 
admit  that  I  was  ready  to  run  four  ways  at  once. 
Our  retreat  was  a  scramble  for  first  place.  I  had 
another  man's  rifle  and  someone  else  had  mine.  A 
companion  and  I  were  streaking  it  up  the  hill,  slip- 
ping on  the  pine  needles  and  making,  it  seemed  to  us, 
about  as  much  progress  backward  as  forward.  The 
bullets  of  the  Indians  were  playing  lively  tunes 
about  our  ears.  Suddenly  a  small  pine  limb,  clipped 
off  by  a  piece  of  lead,  fell  just  over  the  other  man's 
head,  and  at  the  same  instant  he  fell  flat  and  lay 
limp.  I  sprang  toward  him,  reached  down  and 
clasped  his  body  in  my  arms,  determined  to  do  my 
best  to  rescue  his  body;  but  I  felt  his  sides  shaking 
convulsively  in  my  hands  and  in  a  second  he  had 
rolled  over,  laughing  heartily,  and  asked: 

** What's  the  rush?  What  the  devil  are  you  run- 
ning for?" 

His  fall  was  due  to  the  pine  needles  and  not  to 
a  bullet. 


6  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

When  we  had  finally  gathered  together  at  the 
head  of  the  hollow  and  had  taken  a  hasty  inventory 
of  our  numbers,  our  excitement  was  in  no  wise  al- 
layed. One  man  was  gone !  The  Indians  had  got  a 
scalp ! 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  return  to  the 
scene  of  the  ambush  and  make  a  search  for  the  body. 
The  Indians  had  stopped  firing  now  and,  of  course, 
were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Slowly  and  cautiously  we 
crept  back  down  the  ravine,  peering  and  peeping, 
and  ready  to  shoot  at  the  first  thing  that  moved,  or 
to  run  at  the  first  sound,  we  hardly  knew  which. 
But,  behold!  at  last  we  found  our  missing  comrade, 
sitting  placidly  upon  a  rock  and  wondering  where 
the  profanely  qualified  nation  we  had  been !  He  was 
extremely  deaf  and  swore  that  he  had  not  heard  a 
single  shot  nor  seen  an  Indian. 

Good  and  Spaulding  soon  came  running  up,  as 
ready  for  retreat  as  the  rest  of  us.  As  soon  as  we 
got  into  something  like  order,  the  Indians  melted 
away,  but  the  surprise  had  taken  all  the  hunt  out  of 
us  for  the  time. 

The  next  morning  we  started  for  the  valley,  the 
Indians  hanging  on  our  flanks  and  rear,  clear  to  the 
edge  of  the  hills.  Many  times,  as  we  topped  a  ridge 
and  looked  back,  we  could  see  our  dusky  pursuers 
peering  over  the  last  ridge  behind  us  and  keeping 
tab  upon  our  movements.  It  was  useless  to  attempt 
to  lead  them  into  an  ambush,  for  they  knew  our 
exact  number,  and  as  we  wound  up  the  slope  ahead 
of  them  they  would  make  their  count,  and  if  our  full 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  7 

number  was  not  in  sight  would  make  a  detour  around 
the  intervening  ravine. 

We  were  gone  on  this  expedition  four  days,  and 
on  our  return  had  to  draw  pretty  freely  upon  our 
imaginations  for  stories  that  would  satisfy  our 
friends. 

After  this,  I  became  better  acquainted  with  Hi 
Good.  He  lived  near  me  on  Deer  Creek,  and  we 
were  together  on  several  of  the  subsequent  Indian 
hunts.  We  both  thought  that  the  savages  would  be 
encouraged  by  our  failure  to  beat  them,  and  warned 
our  neighbors  to  be  on  the  alert. 

Our  surmises  were  correct.  In  a  short  time  a 
neighbor's  barn  was  visited  in  the  night  and  four 
very  valuable  mules  spirited  away.  The  Indians  had 
a  habit  of  stealing  all  horses  and  mules  that  they 
could  lay  their  hands  on,  driving  them  into  the  hills 
and  butchering  them.  Perhaps  they  preferred  them 
to  cattle,  because  with  them  they  could  beat  a  more 
hasty  retreat ;  but  it  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  they 
liked  horse-flesh  better  than  beef  and  mule-flesh 
better  than  either. 

Upon  receiving  v/ord  of  this  last  robbery,  Good 
and  I  enlisted  as  helpers  a  young  man  named  Jones 
and  another  named  George  Carter,  and  started  for 
the  hills.  These  young  men  seemed  to  have  plenty  of 
nerve,  especially  Johes,  who  had  been  with  us  on  the 
former  hunt  and  who,  I  believe,  was  the  coolest  man 
of  the  party  when  the  surprise  came. 

We  advanced  swiftly  into  the  hills,  picked  up 
the  Indians'  trail,  and,  the  second  day  out,  located 


8  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

their  camp.  They  were  snuggled  away  near  the  bed 
of  Dry  Creek,  well  up  toward  the  head  of  that 
stream,  but  still  several  miles  below  the  pinery. 

We  promptly  made  an  attack.  We  were  sheltered 
behind  bowlders,  while  the  Mill  Creeks  were  partial- 
ly protected  by  a  cave.  However,  we  had  obtained 
a  position  from  which  we  could  shoot  directly  into 
the  cave  and  it  was  not  long  until  we  had  them 
moving. 

We  got  no  Indians,  but  recaptured  considerable 
stolen  plunder.  They  had  killed  the  mules.  On  this 
and  subsequent  hunts  we  learned  that  the  crafty 
fellows  made  a  practice  of  secreting  their  supply  of 
** jerked"  mule-meat  or  other  provisions  in  some 
spot  at  a  distance  from  where  they  camped,  so  that 
if  their  camp  were  surprised  their  food  would  still 
be  safe,  and  in  all  the  years  that  I  followed  them 
I  never  but  once  found  their  hidden  meat-house. 

We  returned  home  much  elated  with  our  success. 
Indeed,  it  put  quite  a  bunch  of  feathers  in  our  caps 
when  compared  with  our  previous  attempt. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  "Boys  in  the  Hills,"  as  the  Indians  were 
frequently  called,  were  not  at  all  satisfied  with 
such  an  ending  of  their  raid,  so  soon  left  an- 
other midnight  mark  upon  the  whites.  Our  only 
chance  to  reach  them  was  through  a  surprise,  so  we 
permitted  several  small  raids  to  go  by  unnoticed,  in 
order  that  our  chances  of  springing  a  surprise  would 
be  strengthened. 

In  fact,  the  depredations  continued  all  through 
the  winter  of  '57  and  '58,  and  finally  complaints 
were  made  to  General  Kibbey,  who  was  then  sta- 
tioned at  Sacramento,  and  a  company  of  troopers 
was  sent  up  the  river  by  steamboat.  They  disem- 
barked at  Tehama  and  caused  quite  a  ripple  of  ex- 
citement in  that  thriving  river  town  by  the  glitter 
of  their  arms  and  uniforms. 

Hi  Good  and  I  went  to  see  them  after  they  had 
made  camp,  and  both  of  us  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  they  might  be  successful  in  an  open  country, 
but  that  there  was  little  chance  of  their  capturing 
any  Indians  in  the  hills. 

Our  conclusions  proved  to  be  well-founded.  The 
troops,  well-mounted,  marched  gallantly  out  across 
the  plains  and  swept  up  the  slope  of  the  hills  in  fine 
military  array.     Their    first    search    seemed  to  be 


10  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

directed  to  finding  a  good  camping  place,  but  before 
they  found  it  the  Mill  Creeks  found  them,  and  back 
to  the  valley  they  marched,  making  rather  better 
time  than  on  the  upward  march. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  this  encouraged  the  "Boys 
in  the  Hills."  Again  the  troops  made  an  advance 
and  again  they  were  surprised  and  forced  to  re- 
treat. This  occurred  several  times,  and  the  soldiers 
finally  gave  it  up  as  a  bad  job  and  quit  the  game. 

From  this  time  onward  it  seemed  as  though  the 
Indians  never  let  a  chance  slip  to  do  the  whites  dam- 
age. Affairs  went  on  in  this  way  until  the  spring 
of  1859,  when  the  raids  became  so  frequent  that  the 
valley  was  thoroughly  roused.  It  was  decided  to 
raise  a  subscription  among  the  settlers  in  order  to 
get  means  to  carry  on  an  exhaustive  campaign 
against  the  renegades,  a  number  of  atrocious  mur- 
ders having  by  this  time  been  added  to  the  list  of 
the  Indians'  misdeeds. 

A  fund  of  three  thousand  dollars  was  secured  and 
placed,  I  think,  in  the  hands  of  a  man  named  Cohen. 
Cohen  was  a  merchant  who  conducted  a  store  at  the 
Mayhew  stage  station  on  Deer  Creek.  Hi  Good,  John 
Breckenridge  and  myself,  together  with  William 
Simmons,  John  Martin,  John  McCord,  one  Cartin 
and  a  man  whom  we  called  ''Slim,"  were  selected 
and  engaged  to  hunt  the  red  men  for  two  months. 
This  gave  us  a  company  of  six  to  press  the  chase, 
with  two  to  care  for  our  pack  animals  and  attend 
camp.  We  had  two  mules  and  a  horse  to  carry  our 
supplies,  but  no  animals  to  ride,  for  we  knew  that 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  11 

the  trail  we  were  about  to  follow  would  lead  us  into 
the  wildest  and  most  rugged  gorges  of  the  Northern 
Sierras. 

Learning  of  our  intended  expedition,  General 
Kibbey  sent  Captain  Burns  of  the  army  to  take  com- 
mand of  our  party.  He  arrived  in  good  time  and  we 
started  on  June  the  15th.  It  was,  I  think,  the  hot- 
test day  I  ever  experienced  in  the  Sacramento  Val- 
ley. Many  of  the  old  settlers  will  remember  the 
time,  as  it  was  the  day  that  old  Tehama  burned. 

We  marched  across  the  dreary,  lava-capped  foot- 
hills on  the  south  side  of  Deer  Creek,  and  the  first 
day's  march  proved  Captain  Burns'  unfitness  for  the 
task  before  us.  He  became  completly  exhausted,  and 
was  sent  back  to  the  valley  from  Deer  Creek  Flats, 
where  we  had  made  our  first  camp,  and  that  ended 
his  participation  in  the  two  months'  hunt. 

Left  to  our  own  resources,  we  elected  Brecken- 
ridge  captain  and  pressed  forward.  The  Indians 
were  evidently  well  posted  as  to  our  movements  and 
intentions,  for  they  secreted  their  squaws  and 
papooses  in  the  most  hidden  recesses  of  the  moun- 
tains and  then  proceeded  to  lead  us  a  merry  chase 
through  the  dark  forests  and  rugged  canyons. 

McCord  was  well  acquainted  with  the  hills,  and 
with  one  companion  he  usually  moved  camp,  often 
taking  roundabount  ways  to  reach  points  which  the 
balance  of  us  gained  by  following  the  routes  taken 
by  the  Indians. 

Our  first  separation  from  our  train  occurred  at 
the  Flats.    McCord  and  companion  went  by  way  of 


12  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

the  ridge  up  which  the  Campbell  Trail  now  leads, 
crossed  Deer  Creek  at  about  the  point  now  known 
as  the  Polk  place,  and  thence  moved  northward  to 
Bluff  Camp.  The  rest  of  us,  with  provisions  enough 
to  last  two  days,  crossed  Deer  Creek  near  the  mouth 
of  Sulphur  Creek,  climbed  the  north  wall  of  the 
canyon,  and  so  on  across  Digger  Pine  Plat  and  to  the 
pinery  about  in  the  region  of  the  Moak  Trail. 

At  Bluff  Camp  we  rejoined  McCord.  After  hold- 
ing a  council,  Breckenridge  decided  that  it  was  best 
to  send  a  scouting  party  up  the  Lassen  Trail  as  far 
as  Deer  Creek  Meadows,  in  hopes  of  picking  up  the 
Indians'  trail.  Our  entire  party  moved  up  the  ridge 
past  Lost  Camp  and  on  over  what  is  called  the  Sum- 
mit, although  it  is  no  real  water  divide,  and  down 
into  the  cold  valley  of  Onion  Creek.  This  stream  is 
named  from  the  patches  of  wild  onions  that  are 
found  here  and  there  along  its  course. 

Here  we  left  our  camp,  while  Breckenridge,  Hi 
Good  and  myself,  with  the  two  mules,  pushed  on  to 
Deer  Creek  Meadows.  "We  found  no  Indian  signs, 
but  as  we  approached  the  level,  grassy  floor  of  the 
meadow  we  spied  five  grizzly  bears  busy  among  some 
rotten  logs  that  lay  near  a  cluster  of  tamaracks.  At 
once  we  proposed  a  bear  hunt.  Breckenridge  con- 
sented, providing  that  he  could  engineer  the  sport. 
Hi  and  I  agreed  to  this,  as  our  acquaintance  with 
grizzlies  was  very  limited. 

Accordingly  the  captain  led  the  pack  animals 
back  into  the  heavy  timber  which  covered  the  sur- 
rounding mountains  and  grew  to  the  very  edge  of 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  13 

the  meadow.  Tying  them  securely  he  returned  and 
directed  us  each  to  pick  out  a  convenient  tree  that 
we  were  sure  we  could  climb  in  case  of  necessity. 
After  providing  ourselves,  like  prudent  soldiers,  with 
our  means  of  retreat,  we  slipped  forward  a  short 
distance,  keeping  out  of  sight  of  the  bears  behind  a 
big  log.  Breckenridge  was  to  take  the  first  shot, 
and  he  told  us  to  hammer  away  at  the  bear  he  should 
shoot  until  it  was  done  for.  The  affair  had  to  be 
handled  quite  differently  to  what  it  would  today,  as 
we  had  none  but  muzzle-loading  rifles  and  six- 
shooters. 

When  all  were  ready,  Breckenridge  threw  a  shot 
into  a  huge  grizzly  and  it  ripped  at  its  side  with  its 
teeth  and  sent  up  a  terrific  bellow.  Hi  and  I  let  go 
at  the  wounded  beast  and  we  soon  had  it  down  and 
out.  Then  on  to  the  next.  For  a  time  we  were  kept 
mighty  busy  loading  and  firing,  but  the  bears  never 
seemed  to  know  where  the  shots  were  coming  from, 
and  so  our  trees  were  not  put  to  use.  We  killed  four 
and  sent  the  fifth  one  off  badly  crippled. 

They  were  huge  creatures,  weighing,  I  should 
judge,  a  thousand  pounds  each.  We  carefully  re- 
moved their  galls,  which  we  knew  we  could  sell  to 
Chinamen.  The  Chinese  use  them  in  preparing  some 
kind  of  medicine  and  in  those  days  often  paid  as 
high  as  fifteen  dollars  apiece  for  them.  The  feet  we 
also  lopped  off.  They  were  to  serve  as  food.  After 
being  roasted  in  hot  ashes  they  make  a  most  tooth- 
some dish.  The  sixteen  feet  made  a  considerable 
pack  in  themselves.    The  carcasses  and  skins  we  left. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FINISHING  our  bear  hunt,  we  returned  to  Onion 
Creek  and  our  entire  party  then  moved  back 
to  Bluff  Camp.  Having  failed  to  strike  Indian 
signs  up-country,  we  decided  to  swing  down  into 
Mill  Creek  Canyon  and  cross  toward  Black  Butte 
on  the  north  side  of  that  stream. 

On  that  day's  march,  Williams  and  I  had  charge 
of  the  pack  animals.  While  making  our  way  along 
the  steep  side  of  the  canyon  we  came  to  a  slide  full 
of  loose  shale.  To  climb  above  or  below  it  seemed 
a  hopeless  task,  so  we  quickly  decided  to  attempt  to 
hustle  our  animals  across  it.  We  made  a  brisk  start, 
but  in  a  moment  packs  and  animals,  men  and  guns 
were  tumbling  and  bouncing  and  rolling  toward  Mill 
Creek  at  a  rate  that  would  have  established  a  record, 
I  am  sure,  if  there  had  been  a  stop-watch  present  to 
time  our  speed.  Our  pack  animals  got  out  of  the 
scrape  with  nothing  worse  than  a  few  bruises,  but  I 
was  less  fortunate,  as  I  wrenched  my  ankle  badly 
and  for  a  time  was  in  great  pain. 

We  crossed  to  the  north  side  of  the  creek  and 
made  camp.  Being  unfit  for  scouting  duty,  I  was 
left  with  McCord  to  tend  camp,  while  the  balance  of 
the  party  separated,  three  going  up  and  three  down 
the  canyon  to  look  for  sign.  They  remained  away 
all  night. 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  15 

We  were  camped  on  a  point  some  distance  up 
from  the  creek,  the  stream  forming  a  bend  around 
the  foot  of  the  point.  As  is  usual  in  this  rough  can- 
yon, the  point  ended  in  a  series  of  cliffs.  During  the 
evening  we  heard  chopping,  and  after  a  time  a  tree 
fell.  We  were  speculating  about  the  matter,  and  in 
the  meantime  keeping  outside  the  circle  of  light  cast 
by  our  little  fire,  when  a  rifle  shot  suddenly  rang 
out  and  a  bullet  spat  into  our  camp.  We  seized  our 
rifles  and  prepared  for  a  brush,  but  our  stealthy  foes 
kept  out  of  sight,  though  they  continued  to  throw 
lead  in  the  direction  of  our  camp  until  well  into  the 
night.  However,  no  damage  was  done  except  to  in- 
terfere with  a  good  night's  sleep. 

Next  morning  w^e  made  an  investigation  and 
found  that  a  large  party  of  Indians  had  been  camped 
under  the  cliffs  only  a  few  hundred  yards  below  us, 
and  that  a  tree  had  been  thrown  across  the  creek  to 
afford  them  a  bridge  to  the  south  side.  The  camp 
had  evidently  been  occupied  by  the  women  and  chil- 
dren, with  only  a  few  men,  but  of  course  the  entire 
party  was  now  gone. 

When  Breckenridge  returned,  we  made  our  re- 
port and  took  him  down  to  the  deserted  camp.  As 
soon  as  he  found  that  the  runaways  were  women 
and  children,  he  said: 

' '  Let  them  go ;  we  must  find  the  warriors. ' ' 

Again  scouting  parties  were  sent  out.  Although 
my  ankle  was  still  somewhat  stiff  and  swollen,  I  was 
able  to  make  pretty  fair  headway  along  the  rough 
and  rocky  hillsides.     I  went  down  the  canyon  and 


16  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

after  traveling  a  mile  or  more  discovered  a  fresh 
trail  leading  northward  toward  the  head  of  Paynes 
Creek.  It  had  been  made  by  warriors,  fully  a  dozen 
in  number. 

I  reported  to  our  captain  and  our  plans  were 
quickly  made.  The  pack  animals  were  sent  around 
by  a  devious  course  to  meet  us  again  at  Battle  Creek 
Meadows,  while  we  followed  the  trail. 

We  were  beginning  by  this  time  to  get  an  under- 
standing of  the  signs  by  means  of  which  the  Indians 
regulated  their  movements,  and  this  knowledge  later 
became  of  great  use  to  us.  For  instance,  they  were 
traveling  toward  the  north.  On  top  of  the  first  ridge 
that  the  trail  crossed  would  be  found  three  stones 
piled  one  upon  another  on  some  rock.  This  meant 
that  the  party  was  to  come  together  for  camp  or 
other  purposes  in  the  third  canyon  beyond.  On  the 
next  ridge  would  be  two  stones  placed  in  the  same 
way  upon  a  wayside  bowlder,  and  on  the  next  one. 
Thus,  a  party,  finding  a  monument  of  stones,  had  but 
to  count  the  stones  in  order  to  know  where  the  meet- 
ing place  was  to  be,  and  immediately,  if  there  were 
a  number  together,  they  would  scatter,  each  man  to 
himself,  only  to  congregate  later  at  the  appointed 
place.  After  we  once  learned  to  read  these  signs, 
much  tedious  trailing  was  saved  us,  for  we  had  but 
to  count  the  intervening  ridges,  as  the  Indians  did, 
and  devote  our  close  work  to  the  final  hollow. 

We  made  the  advance  to  Battle  Creek  Meadows 
without  mishap.  The  beautiful  little  valley  was  at 
this  time  a  perfect  sea  of  tall  grass,  in  the  midst  of 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  17 

which,  along  the  winding  streams,  were  magnificent 
beds  of  wild  strawberries;  yet  the  forest  surround- 
ing the  meadows  was  still  streaked  with  drifts  of 
snow. 

In  the  edge  of  the  meadow  we  found  where  the 
Indians  had  camped.  As  well  as  we  could  read  the 
signs,  they  were  two  nights  ahead  of  us.  They  had 
left  a  couple  of  green  bear  skins  lying  beside  their 
extinguished  fire. 

It  was  near  the  end  of  the  day  when  we  discov- 
ered the  abandoned  camp,  and,  as  our  pack  train  had 
not  yet  arrived,  we  decided  to  try  to  get  some  veni- 
son and  at  the  same  time  endeavor  to  discover  which 
way  the  Indians  had  taken  on  departing. 

Good  and  Simmons  went  up  the  creek,  while  Wil- 
liams and  I  went  down.  Simmons  shot  at  and 
wounded  a  bear.  It  chased  him  and  he  yelled  for  Hi 
to  shoot  it.  Before  the  latter  could  come  up,  how- 
ever, Simmons  was  so  closely  pressed  that  he  con- 
cluded his  time  had  come.  He  had  not  been  able  to 
reload  his  rifle  and  there  was  no  tree  close  by  that 
he  could  climb.  Finally,  when  the  bear  was  close 
upon  him,  he  stopped  and  the  beast,  instead  of  clos- 
ing in  on  him,  immediately  began  to  circle  around 
him,  growling  savagely.  Hi  came  up,  and  afterwards 
declared  that  it  was  equal  to  a  one-ringed  circus  to 
see  Simmons  turning  cautiously  around  so  as  to  keep 
his  face  to  the  circling  beast.  After  enjoying  the 
show  for  a  while.  Hi  threw  a  shot  into  the  bear,  and 
it  made  for  the  timber,  badly  crippled. 

Meanwhile,  Williams  and  I  had  been  having  our 


18  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

share  of  the  fun.  We  were  traveling  along  close  to 
the  willows  that  fringed  the  creek,  when  a  large, 
barren  doe  sprang  up.  We  both  shot  at  her  and  one 
of  our  bullets  broke  her  hip.  I  followed  the  deer 
into  the  willows,  without  stopping  to  reload  my  rifle, 
and,  soon  catching  sight  of  her,  finished  her  with  a 
shot  from  my  six-shooter.  As  I  was  threshing  through 
the  brush  to  where  she  lay,  Williams  suddenly 
shouted : 

"Look  out  for  that  bear!" 

I  whirled  about  and  beheld  a  huge  grizzly  stalk- 
ing deliberately  through  the  willows,  not  fifty  feet 
away.  Without  stopping  to  consider  what  I  was 
doing,  I  cut  loose  with  my  revolver,  and  down  the 
big  beast  went,  slashing  the  ground  with  his  teeth. 
In  a  second  he  was  up,  and  I  fired  again  and  down  he 
went  a  second  time.  So  a  third  and  a  fourth  bullet  I 
threw  into  him,  and  then  it  abruptly  dawned  upon 
me  that  I  had  but  one  bullet  lift  in  my  six-shooter 
and  none  in  my  rifle.  Luckily,  the  bear  paid  no  at- 
tention whatever  to  me.  In  fact,  it  appeared  not  to 
have  seen  me.  Williams  now  gave  it  a  shot  from  his 
rifle  and  it  put  off  through  the  willows.  The  next 
morning  we  found  it  lying  dead  not  far  away. 

The  pack  animals  joined  us  that  night,  but  our 
provisions  were  too  low  to  warrant  us  in  starting 
on  a  long  chase,  so  four  of  us  were  sent  over  toward 
Hot  Spring  Valley  to  hunt  for  deer.  We  got  five, 
and,  returning  to  camp,  were  busy  '^ jerking"  the 
meat,  when  some  of  our  scouts  discovered  the  In- 
dians' trail  leading  out  toward  the  Lassen  Buttes. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SIX  of  us  promptly  set  out  upon  the  trail,  carry- 
ing each  four  days'  rations,  and  a  hard  run  we 
had  of  it.  Up  through  the  heavy  forest  to  the 
lofty  backbone  west  of  what  is  now  called  the  Mor- 
gan Springs  Valley,  along  this  high  ridge  until  we 
had  reached  the  upper  timber  line,  and  still  onward 
and  upward  until  we  found  ourselves  upon  Lassen's 
snow-capped  peak.  The  trail  led  directly  past  the 
Buttes,  west  of  the  dreary  lava  of  the  Cinder  Cone 
region  and  on  toward  the  unmapped  canyon  of  Pitt 
River. 

On  the  border  of  that  turbulent  stream  the  red- 
skins doubled  on  us,  and  once  more  we  were  headed 
toward  the  south.  Our  camp  had  been  ordered  to 
return  to  Black  Buttes  on  Mill  Creek,  and  to  await 
us  there.  Coming  back  on  a  course  much  farther 
west  than  that  followed  on  the  outward  trip,  we 
came  upon  a  sawmill  out  in  the  region  northeast  of 
Red  Bluff.  There  great  excitement  prevailed.  The 
skulking  Indians,  preceding  us  by  a  day,  had  run 
upon  one  of  the  bull-punchers  near  the  mill,  had 
killed  him  and  chased  his  team  over  a  cliff. 

Some  of  the  lumber- jacks  were  trying  to  find  the 
Indians,  while  others  seemed  to  be  afraid  that  the 
Indians  would  find  them.  Our  provisions  were  gone, 
so  we  went  to  the  cook-house  and  demanded  food. 
We  got  what  we  asked  for  and  hurried  onward,  the 
trail  still  leading  us  toward  the  south. 


20  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

During  these  severe  days  our  rations  consisted 
principally  of  sugar.  Each  man  could  carry  enough 
to  last  him  several  days,  and,  eked  out  with  man- 
zanita  berries,  this  ration  really  kept  us  in  good 
strength.  The  time  ordinarily  spent  in  cooking  was 
saved  and  gave  us  that  much  more  time  for  the  busi- 
ness of  following  the  trail.  We  soon  got  in  the  habit 
of  keeping  our  hunger  appeased  by  frequently  dip- 
ping into  our  little  sugar  sacks,  and  not  infrequently 
followed  the  trail  for  ten  or  even  twelve  hours  at  a 
stretch  without  a  single  stop  of  more  than  a  few 
minutes'  duration.  When  it  grew  too  dark  for  us 
to  read  the  ground  sign,  we  had  but  to  scrape  to- 
gether a  pile  of  leaves  or  pine  needles  and  sleep  un- 
til daylight  should  come  again,  and  then  proceed  on 
our  way. 

We  crossed  Mill  Creek  and  Deer  Creek  and  fol- 
lowed the  trail  as  far  as  the  Keefer  ridge,  between 
Rock  Creek  and  Chico  Creek.  Our  provisions  were 
by  this  time  completely  exhausted,  so  we  returned 
to  the  valley  for  more. 

While  in  the  valley  a  message  reached  us  from 
the  Butte  Creek  country,  warning  us  to  follow  the 
Indians  no  farther,  and  stating  that  a  company  of 
fifteen  miners  would  be  waiting  for  us  if  we  persisted 
in  the  pursuit.  We  had  always  felt  certain  that  the 
Mill  Creeks  procured  arms  and  ammunition  through 
friendly  relations  with  whites.  This  note  of  warning 
seemed  to  settle  the  matter,  and  to  indicate  where 
the  whites  in  question  were  to  be  found. 

We  thouffht  it  best  to  secure  reinforcements  be- 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  21 

fore  making  another  advance.  My  brother,  Jack, 
who  lived  with  me  on  Deer  Creek,  and  a  man  named 
Bates  joined  our  force.  We  returned  to  the  hills  and 
made  camp  at  a  little  spring  near  the  present  site  of 
the  Cole  place  on  the  Cohasset  ridge. 

Believing  that  the  Indians  were  reinforced,  not 
only  by  the  fifteen  miners,  but  by  some  of  the  Butte 
Creek  Indians  as  well,  we  now  used  every  precau- 
tion in  trailing  them.  Hi  Good  and  I  did  most  of 
the  scouting.  One  of  us  would  follow  the  ground 
sign,  while  the  other  acted  as  lookout  to  avoid  run- 
ning into  an  ambush.  We  had  to  do  most  of  our 
work  by  daylight,  but  the  balance  of  the  party 
moved  only  at  night. 

Crossing  Chico  Creek  Canyon,  we  reached  the 
ridge  beyond,  and  finally  discovered  what  seemed  to 
be  a  large  camp  at  or  near  the  present  site  of  the 
Forest  Ranch.  After  a  careful  study  of  the  ground, 
we  returned  to  our  camp.  On  this  return  trip  we  ran 
upon  an  Indian  scout,  and  after  a  long,  hard  chase, 
killed  him.  We  carried  his  scalp  to  camp  with  us, 
this  being  the  first  trophy  we  had  taken  in  the  cam- 
paign. 

Upon  receiving  our  report.  Captain  Breckenridge 
at  once  gave  orders  for  an  advance.  Of  course,  we 
had  to  move  in  the  night.  It  was  a  weary  climb  out 
of  Chico  Creek  Canyon  in  the  darkness,  but  we  made 
it  and  succeeded  in  surrounding  the  hostile  camp 
before  daylight.  Our  number  being  limited  and  hav- 
ing a  pretty  large  circle  to  form,  it  left  us  separated, 
man  from  man,  by  spaces  of  about  seventy -five  yards. 


22  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

I  had  been  assigned  to  a  position  eastward  of  the 
Camp  and  very  close,  as  I  afterward  learned,  to  the 
trail  which  led  toward  the  mining  village  at  the 
forks  of  Butte  Creek.  The  forest  trees  afforded  us 
ample  hiding  places  and  we  had  been  ordered  to 
hold  our  fire  until  it  was  perfectly  light.  Hi  Good 
was  on  my  right  and  Brother  Jack  upon  my  left. 

As  the  gray  dawn  melted  into  daylight,  the  out- 
lines of  the  camp  became  clearer.  It  was  evidently 
a  permanent  meeting  place,  as  there  were  signs  of  its 
having  been  frequently  occupied.  Directly  in  front 
of  me  and  standing  something  like  a  hundred  yards 
apart  were  two  lofty  pine  trees,  trimmed  of  branches 
except  for  small  tufts  of  foliage  on  their  tops,  and, 
what  was  my  surprise,  as  the  heavens  grew  brighter, 
to  behold  a  large  American  flag  depending  from  the 
top  of  each  tree. 

The  Indians,  as  we  afterward  learned,  had  been 
enjoying  a  celebration  in  company  with  their  friends 
from  Butte  Creek,  and  did  not  prove  to  be  early 
risers.  The  sun  had  crept  up  to  the  tops  of  the  pines 
on  the  hill  east  of  us  before  there  was  any  stir  in  the 
camp.  Then  a  man  emerged  from  a  cluster  of  little 
firs  and  came  shuffling  up  the  trail  directly  toward 
where  I  lay.  Captain  Breckenridge  had  not  yet  given 
the  signal  to  commence  firing,  so  I  slipped  around 
my  tree  in  order  to  remain  hidden.  As  the  man  ap- 
proached and  passed  me,  I  perceived  that  he  was 
not  an  Indian,  but  a  Spaniard.  However,  birds 
flocking  together  on  this  occasion  were  to  be  con- 
sidered birds  of  a  feather.     The  man  had  got  but 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  23 

a  few  paces  past  me  when  Hi  Good  spied  him.  In  a 
moment  Good's  rifle  spoke,  and  the  Spaniard, 
wounded,  sprang  back  toward  the  camp.  As  he  ran 
another  rifle  over  on  the  other  side  of  our  circle 
cracked,  and  he  fell  dead. 

The  camp  was  roused.  In.  a  twinkling,  up  the 
Indians  sprang,  men,  women  and  children,  and  as  if 
with  one  impulse  they  swarmed  up  the  slope  directly 
toward  where  I  lay.  In  a  moment  I  was  enveloped 
in  the  wild  stampede.  I  shot  and  then  clubbed  my 
rifle  and  struggled  against  the  rush.  Good  and  Jack 
came  to  my  assistance,  and  together  we  turned  them 
back.  The  balance  of  our  party  were  pouring  shots 
into  them  and  they  soon  began  to  seek  shelter  amid 
the  logs  and  thickets  of  small  forest  trees. 

Our  orders  from  Breckenridge  had  been  to  allow 
no  one  to  break  through  the  circle,  but  to  spare  the 
women  and  children.  This  was  a  most  difficult  pro- 
gram to  carry  out.  The  bucks  were  armed  and  were 
returning  our  fire.  The  squaws  soon  perceived  that 
we  were  seeking  to  spare  their  lives,  and  so  they 
clung  to  the  bucks.  This  made  it  difficult  to  get  a 
bead  upon  the  one  without  endangering  the  other. 
Seeing  that  this  state  of  affairs  would  not  do,  we  sent 
word  from  man  to  man  around  to  the  captain  and 
asked  him  for  new  orders.  Soon  the  word  came 
back:  ''Let  the  squaws  and  children  pass  out." 

Good,  who  could  speak  the  Indian  dialect, 
promptly  shouted  the  order  to  the  Indians.  They 
eagerly  seized  upon  the  suggestion,  but  we  were 
soon  to  learn  that  the  order  was  a  serious  mistake. 


24  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

A  warrior  would  wrap  himself  in  a  blanket,  throw 
another  blanket  or  a  basket  over  his  head,  with  a 
rifle  concealed  next  his  body,  seize  a  child  by  the 
hand,  or  hoist  one  upon  his  back,  and  go  shuffling 
past  us. 

Soon  we  came  in  possession  of  the  camp.  There 
was  not  a  bad  Indian  to  be  found,  but  about  forty 
good  ones  lay  scattered  about. 

While  rejoicing  over  our  victory,  shots  began  to 
ring  out  and  bullets  to  sing  about  our  ears,  and  we 
suddenly  found  ourselves  where  so  lately  we  had 
had  the  Indians.  They  were  shooting  at  us  from  all 
sides.  I  heard  Hi  Good  cursing  like  a  wagon-master 
and  saw  him  trying  to  get  a  bead  on  an  Indian.  He 
was  behind  a  tree,  from  both  sides  of  which  pieces 
of  bark  were  flying  as  from  a  woodman's  ax.  How- 
ever, our  luck  had  not  deserted  us.  Not  one  of  our 
party  was  hit.  We  charged  and  scattered  the  In- 
dians, then  kept  out  guards  while  we  prepared  and 
ate  our  breakfasts. 

Two  barrels,  partly  filled  with  whiskey,  were  in 
the  camp,  as  well  as  other  evidences  which  pointed 
to  the  fact  that  whites  had  joined  with  the  redskins 
in  the  recent  celebration.  We  soon  took  our  depar- 
ture for  our  own  camp  across  Chico  Creek,  each 
man  well  burdened  with  plunder  from  the  captured 
camp.  I  had  found  three  good  six-shooters,  which  I 
thrust  under  my  belt,  thinking  these  to  be  about  as 
useful  as  anything  to  be  had. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WE  were  filing  down  the  hill  into  Chico  Creek 
Canyon,  and  were  perhaps  a  little  careless 
of  our  advance,  when  we  ran  suddenly  into 
an  ambush.  Six  or  seven  of  the  Mill  Creeks,  un- 
doubtedly part  of  those  who  had  escaped  from  the 
camp,  had  hidden  along  the  trail  and,  suddenly  ris- 
ing above  the  birch  brush,  let  us  have  it.  We  were 
strung  along  in  single  file.  Six  of  our  party  were 
ahead  of  me,  and  I  suddenly  saw  them  all  go  down. 
However,  not  one  was  hurt.  The  Indians  disappeared 
in  an  instant.  In  the  one  glimpse  I  caught  of  them 
I  threw  up  my  rifle  and  fired.  I  saw  one  fall  with  a 
broken  thigh,  and  sprang  after  him.  Just  as  I  leaped 
the  man  behind  me  fired  and  the  powder  from  his 
rifle  blackened  my  right  ear.  Sliding  and  crawling 
down  the  steep  hillside,  the  wounded  Indian  could 
travel  nearly  as  fast  as  I  could.  I  chased  him  nearly 
to  the  bottom  of  the  canyon  before  I  finished  him. 
The  chase  cost  me  my  three  new  six-shooters,  all  of 
which  were  pulled  from  my  belt  by  the  clinging 
brush. 

I  rejoined  the  balance  of  the  party  and  we  had 
pushed  on  well  down  to  the  creek,  when  we  discov- 
ered five  of  the  Indians  far  above  us  upon  a  cliff  on 
the  north  wall  of  the  canyon.    For  a  few  minutes  we 


26  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

discussed  the  probabilities  of  their  being  the  same 
party  which  had  ambushed  us.  Some  of  our  party 
believed  that  they  were  not  Indians  at  all. 

During  the  discussion,  I  was  standing  looking 
upward,  the  left  side  of  my  head  touching  an  oak 
tree.  All  at  once  I  saw  a  puff  of  smoke  arise  from 
the  distant  cliff,  and  in  a  moment  I  was  down  and 
out.  A  bullet  had  cut  in  between  my  head  and  the 
oak,  driven  my  scalp  full  of  bark,  and  left  me  sense- 
less for  twenty  minutes.  The  scar  from  that  shot 
forms  a  very  considerable  bald  spot  on  my  head  to- 
day. 

We  returned  to  our  camp  on  the  Keefer  ridge. 
A  man  by  the  name  of  King  at  that  time  had  a  saw- 
mill a  few  miles  farther  up  the  ridge.  Just  after  we 
reached  camp,  two  teamsters  drove  up  the  old  road 
toward  this  mill.  One  of  them  was  my  old  friend, 
Perry  Mcintosh,  the  other  a  man  named  Lindsay.  I 
told  Breckenridge  that  some  of  us  ought  to  overtake 
the  teamsters  and  guard  them  to  the  mill,  as  the  In- 
dians were  likely  to  overhaul  them.  The  captain 
thought  that  the  trip  to  the  mill  could  be  made  in 
safety. 

However,  it  was  not.  The  Indians,  sure  enough, 
spied  the  teamsters,  waylaid  them,  and  shot  Lindsay. 
Mcintosh  escaped,  reached  the  mill,  and  later  res- 
cued Lindsay,  who  subsequently  recovered. 

News  of  the  fight  at  Forest  Ranch  quickly  reached 
the  valley,  and  for  a  time  exaggerated  stories  were 
in  circulation  to  the  effect  that  our  entire  party  had 
been  killed.     Coon  Garner  raised  a  party  of  fifteen 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  27 

and  hastened  into  the  hills  to  look  us  up.  If  I  re- 
member correctly,  P.  M.  Guynn  and  Dan  Sutherland 
are  the  only  surviving  members  of  that  party. 

We  had  moved  back  across  Chico  Creek,  and  Gar- 
ner's  party  found  us  encamped  near  the  site  of  the 
Doe  Mill.  We  had  revisited  "the  battle-ground  at 
Forest  Ranch,  only  to  find  that  the  surviving  In- 
dians had  returned  and  burned  the  bodies  of  their 
slain. 

We  were  not  yet  satisfied  with  the  state  of  affairs 
at  the  forks  of  Butte  Creek.  Scouting  through  that 
canyon  we  jumped  some  Indians,  who  promptly  ran 
for  the  bottom  of  the  canyon.  Our  enlarged  party  at 
once  swarmed  down  the  hillside  toward  the  mining 
town.  Breckenridge  had  ordered  us  to  kill  any  In- 
dian found  even  in  the  streets  of  the  village,  but  to 
shoot  none  who  had  sought  shelter  within  the  houses. 

Some  of  the  fleeing  Indians  headed  straight  for 
the  village.  Knowing  a  short  course  to  a  footbridge 
where  I  believed  they  would  cross  the  stream,  I 
called  to  Williams  and  together  we  raced  to  that 
point.  We  succeeded  in  tumbling  several  Indians  off 
the  bridge  into  the  creek  as  they  sought  to  cross. 

Then  we  entered  the  village.  The  Indians  were 
there  in  considerable  numbers,  but  all  had  prudently 
disappeared  within  the  houses.  A  man  named  Wal- 
lace conducted  a  store.  He  resented  our  appearance, 
and,  stepping  outside  his  store,  shouted  to  us  that 
if  a  single  Indian  were  killed  he  w^ould  follow  us  up 
and  kill  six  white  men.  As  soon  as  Breckenridge 
entered  the  town,  I  reported  Walla  3e's  remark. 


28  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

''Point  out  that  man  to  me!"  said  he,  abruptly. 

"He  is  standing  back  of  that  counter,  and  has 
two  six-shooters  beside  him,"  replied  I. 

"Can  you  cover  him  from  where  you  stand?" 

I  answered  that  I  could,  and  at  once  threw  my 
gun  on  the  man.  Breckenridge  entered  the  store, 
strode  up  to  Wallace,  and  told  him  very  plainly  why 
we  had  followed  the  Indians  to  Butte  Creek.  He  de- 
clared that  we  had  long  suspected  and  now  had  proof 
that  the  Mill  Creeks  received  support  from  either 
the  Butte  Creek  Indians  or  the  miners,  or  both,  and 
that  the  arms  and  ammunition  secured  in  this  way 
were  used  to  murder  white  people  of  the  country 
farther  north.  Breckenridge  was  not  a  pleasant  man 
to  have  for  an  enemy,  and  Wallace  had  departed 
very  far  from  his  boastful,  threatening  manner  be- 
fore the  former  was  through  with  him. 

We  learned  later  that  the  store-keeper's  squaw 
had  received  a  wound  in  the  Forest  Ranch  fight, 
which  fact  probably  accounted  for  the  stand  Wallace 
took.  In  the  course  of  the  controversy,  he  remarked 
that  if  we  had  been  a  day  earlier  at  Forest  Ranch 
we  would  have  found  him  at  the  camp,  to  which  he 
received  the  comforting  reply  that  if  such  had  been 
the  case  he  would  surely  have  met  with  exactly  the 
same  treatment  as  that  accorded  the  Indians. 

All  this  time  a  group  of  Indians  was  stationed  in 
back  part  of  the  store.  After  Breckenridge  had 
freed  his  mind  to  Wallace,  I  told  some  of  the  boys  to 
keep  an  eye  on  the  store-keeper,  as  I  wished  to  take 
a  look  at  an  Indian  whom  I  had  seen  in  the  back 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  29 

room.  This  Indian  was  seated  upon  a  keg.  I  had 
recognized  him  as  a  young  fellow  whom  1  had  shot 
down  during  the  Forest  Ranch  fight,  thinking  him 
dead,  only  to  find  him  missing  after  the  battle. 

I  approached  him  now  and  asked  him  how  he 
felt,  to  which  he  made  no  reply.  I  was  curious  to 
learn  just  how  much  an  Indian  could  endure  in  the 
way  of  a  gun-shot  wound.  I  pulled  his  shirt  up  over 
his  head  and  there  were  the  wounds,  indicating  that 
my  bullet  had  entered  his  right  breast  and  passed 
out  under  his  left  shoulder-blade.  The  bullet  must 
have  been  deflected  in  some  way,  since  a  straight 
line  drawn  from  one  wound  to  the  other  would  have 
pierced  his  heart ;  yet  here  he  sat,  apparently  in  good 
health,  three  days  after  the  battle ! 

We  moved  camp  to  a  ridge  some  miles  below  the 
forks  and  spent  several  days  trying  to  straighten  out 
affairs  with  the  Indians  of  Butte  Creek.  We  cap- 
tured a  chief  called  * '  The  Old  Captain, ' '  and,  as  soon 
as  he  found  himself  within  our  power,  he  professed 
to  be  very  friendly  and  assured  us  that  if  we  would 
but  lie  low  for  a  time  he  and  his  men  would  capture 
the  remainder  of  the  Mill  Creeks  for  us. 

I  had  no  faith  whatever  in  the  old  fellow,  or  in 
his  protestations  of  friendship;  but  Breckenridge 
seemed  to  think  that  he  could  be  trusted,  or  at  least 
that  it  was  our  duty  to  give  him  a  trial.  As  a  sort 
of  hostage,  we  kept  "The  Old  Captain"  in  our  camp 
while  a  young  Indian  of  his  clan,  called  "Tony," 
was  sent  out  to  muster  the  warriors.  He  returned 
with  about  fifteen  of  them,  and  they  spent  several 


30  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

days  in  our  midst.  They  declared  that  the  proper 
way  to  get  the  Mill  Creeks  was  to  slip  up  on  them 
and  fight  in  the  old  style  of  Indian  warfare, — that  is, 
with  bows  and  arrows.  During  several  days  they 
made  much  ado  of  practicing  with  these  ancient 
weapons,  and  I  must  do  them  the  credit  of  saying 
that  some  of  them  shot  extremely  well.  Finally  a 
war  party  set  out,  under  the  leadership  of  "Tony," 
"The  Old  Captain"  still  being  held  as  hostage. 

The  chief's  squaw  was  allowed  to  visit  him,  and 
she  came  and  went  at  will,  thus,  of  course,  keeping 
him  in  communication  with  the  rest  of  his  people, 
those  who  pretended  to  be  on  the  warpath  included. 
During  the  day  he  was  allowed  to  roam  about  our 
camp,  but  at  night  he  was  lodged  in  a  vacant  cabin 
that  stood  near,  one  man  being  detailed  to  guard 
him. 

One  night,  after  Tony's  party  had  been  several 
days  gone,  the  old  rascal  pretended  to  be  very  sick, 
and  finally  prevailed  upon  his  guard  to  lead  him 
some  distance  from  the  cabin.  They  had  barely  got 
beyond  the  bounds  of  the  sleeping  encampment  when 
the  Indian  made  a  sudden  break  for  liberty.  The 
guard  gave  chase,  and  after  a  hundred-yard  dash 
overhauled  him  and  brought  him  back.  Thereafter 
he  was  secured  by  ropes. 

This  action  of  the  chief  convinced  Breckenridge 
of  my  way  of  thinking  regarding  the  trickery  of 
the  Butte  Creeks,  so  it  was  decided  to  hunt  up  the 
pretended  war  party  and  see  what  they  were  up  to. 
The  following  morning  we  split  up  into  scouting  par- 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  31 

ties  and  set  out.  Ad  Williams  and  I  made  a  search 
of  the  canyon  in  the  direction  of  Hell  Town.  We 
were  advancing  along  the  ridge,  from  which  we 
could  keep  a  sharp  lookout  into  the  ravines  below 
and  upon  the  opposite  wall  of  the  canyon.  I  finally 
spied  some  figures  far  below  us,  and  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  creek.  They  soon  disappeared  within  a 
dense  thicket,  and,  not  long  afterward,  we  were  able 
to  make  out  a  faint  ribbon  of  smoke  curling  up  above 
the  brush. 

We  decided  to  investigate,  so  slid  cautiously 
down  the  hillside,  crossed  the  creek,  and,  creeping 
into  the  thicket,  found  seven  of  our  Butte  Creek 
''allies"  lounging  idly  about  a  tiny  fire.  Tony  was 
among  the  number.  We  lost  no  time  in  making 
them  our  prisoners  and  starting  with  them  back  to 
camp. 

While  we  were  toiling  up  the  hill,  within  perhaps 
a  mile  of  our  destination,  we  suddenly  heard  a  fusil- 
lade of  shots  coming  from  the  direction  of  our  camp. 
The  shooting  continued  for  some  time,  those  engaged 
seeming  to  be  moving  toward  the  breaks  of  the  can- 
yon, the  last  shot  or  two  being  fired  over  the  slope 
of  the  ridge. 

We  soon  reached  camp  and  learned  the  cause  of 
the  disturbance.  Those  of  our  party  who  were  in 
camp  had  been  scattered  carelessly  about,  paying 
no  heed  to  "The  Old  Captain,"  who  suddenly 
jumped  free  from  his  ropes,  gave  a  triumphant 
whoop,  and  started  like  a  deer  toward  the  canyon. 
He  had  secured  a  knife  in  some  way,  cut  his  bonds 


32  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

beneath  his  blanket,  and  then  made  his  second  break 
for  liberty. 

None  of  the  Whites  had  their  rifles  at  hand,  but 
most  of  them  promptly  drew  their  six-shooters  and 
opened  on  the  scudding  red  man.  His  rush  was  so 
sudden,  however,  that  he  escaped  the  first  scattering 
volley  and  outstripped  all  his  pursuers  excepting  Hi 
Good,  who  was  swift  of  foot  and  had  great  powers 
of  endurance. 

Good  continued  to  run  and  shoot  without  bring- 
ing the  Indian  down,  until  he  had  emptied  his  re- 
volver. Not  being  able  to  reload  on  the  run,  he 
swept  onward  with  his  weapon  empty,  and,  getting 
close  enough  soon  after  crossing  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  he  threw  his  revolver  and  knocked  the  Indian 
down.  Before  the  latter  could  recover,  Good  over- 
hauled him  and  soon  after  returned  with  him  to 
camp.  The  chief  had  been  shot  twice  in  the  chase 
and  was  so  badly  wounded  that  when  we  moved 
away  we  left  him  to  the  care  of  his  squaw.  I  think 
that  he  subsequently  recovered. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ANOTHER  incident  that  occurred  while  we  were 
encamped  at  this  place  might  be 
worthy  of  mention.  Two  of  our 
party,  Bates  and  a  man  named  Wash  Cox, 
the  latter  being  of  Garner's  party,  returned  one 
day  from  a  hunting  trip  and  said  that  they  had  killed 
two  bears  and  left  them  hanging  in  a  tree.  They 
wished  someone  else  to  go  after  the  carcasses.  I 
agreed  to  bring  in  the  meat,  and  set  out  at  once. 

On  reaching  the  spot  to  which  they  had  directed 
me,  however,  I  was  surprised  and  disgusted  to  find 
two  fat  hogs  awaiting  me.  After  debating  the  situa- 
tion in  my  own  mind  for  a  time,  I  finally  decided  to 
carry  the  meat  to  camp,  as  I  had  promised.  Imme- 
diately on  reaching  camp,  however,  I  reported  the 
affair  to  Breckenridge,  and  told  him  that  it  looked 
like  a  slippery  trick,  to  get  someone  else  besides 
the  real  culprits  involved. 

The  captain  looked  at  the  matter  in  the  same 
light  as  myself,  and  he  lost  no  time  in  calling  Bates 
and  Cox  before  him.  He  told  them  that  he  would 
not  countenance  any  such  thievery  and  ordered  them 
to  hunt  up  a  man  named  Harris,  to  whom  it  was 
found  the  hogs  belonged,  pay  him  for  the  animals, 
and  that  then  they  would  be  drummed  out  of  camp 
as  unfit  members  of  our  party. 


34  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

The  two  men  left  camp  and  stayed  away  for 
some  time.  When  they  returned  they  asserted  that 
they  had  found  Harris  and  offered  him  pay  for  the 
hogs,  which  he  refused.  This  may  have  been  true, 
but  it  did  not  lessen  the  offense  of  having  killed  the 
animals. 

The  second  part  of  the  men 's  sentence  had  yet  to 
be  carried  out,  Garner  having  agreed  with  Brecken- 
ridge  in  the  matter.  Hi  Good,  as  our  second  in  com- 
mand, was  left  to  carry  the  order  out.  He  com- 
manded Bates  and  Cox  to  move,  and  ordered  the  rest 
of  us  to  provide  all  the  music  that  could  be  coaxed 
out  of  the  pots  and  pans  of  our  camping  outfit.  The 
rest  of  us  were  ready  for  our  parts,  but  now  a  halt 
came  in  the  proceedings,  for  Bates  entered  a  strong 
protest.  He  swore  that  he  would  not  be  driven  out 
of  camp  in  this  way  and  that  there  were  not  enough 
of  us  to  force  him  to  go.  He  stepped  up  to  Good  and 
struck  him  and  in  a  moment  the  two  were  fighting 
desperately.  Bates  was  a  powerful  man  and  for  a 
time  it  looked  as  though  he  would  master  his  man, 
but  Good's  endurance  was  the  greater  and  he  at 
length  knocked  Bates  down  and  was  beating  him 
cruelly  when  I  stopped  him.  Then  the  two  men  were 
drummed  out  of  camp,  according  to  orders. 

The  recaptured  Butte  Creeks  tried  to  explain 
their  failure  to  do  as  promised  by  pretending  that 
they  had  overtaken  the  Mill  Creeks  and  been 
whipped.  They  now  promised  to  go  with  us  and 
lead  us  to  the  hiding  places  of  the  renegades.  I  con- 
sidered this  promise  as  little  likely  to  be  fulfilled  as 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  35 

the  former  one,  but  it  was  decided  to  give  the  In- 
dians another  trial. 

Accordingly,  it  was  arranged  that  the  balance  of 
the  party  were  to  march  through  the  hills  to  the 
Sidoros  place  on  Rock  Creek,  while  Hi  Good  and  I 
should  bring  the  seven  captive  Indians  directly  to 
the  valley,  thence  move  northward  along  the  edge 
of  the  valley  to  the  same  point.  We  traveled  as 
rapidly  as  we  could,  but  night  overtook  us  when  we 
were  but  a  short  distance  north  of  Chico  Creek.  We 
decided  to  lie  over  till  morning.  We  halted  beneath 
a  large  oak  and  I  said  to  Hi : 

' '  You  guard  the  Indians  the  first  half  of  the  night 
and  I'll  take  the  last  half;  or  turn  it  about,  just  as 
you  like." 

''Guard  be  d d!"  said  Good.     ''I'm  going  to 

sleep." 

And  he  proceeded  to  snuggle  down  on  the 
ground.  I  told  him  that  the  Indians  would  knock 
us  on  the  head  and  skip  out  to  join  the  Mill  Creeks 
as  sure  as  we  both  slept,  but  he  declared  that  they 
wouldn't  lay  a  finger  upon  us.  Say  what  I  could 
he  would  take  no  hand  in  the  guarding,  so  I  sat 
awake  all  night  while  he  slept.  The  Indians  made 
no  break,  either  to  escape  or  to  harm  us,  but  I  have 
always  felt  satisfied  that  the  white  scalps  that  they 
most  longed  to  handle  would  have  been  dangling 
at  their  belts  in  short  order  had  I  relaxed  my  vigi- 
lance. 

Next  day  we  reached  the  Sidoros  place,  where  the 
entire  party  was  reunited.     After  dinner,  someone 


36  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

remarked  that  there  was  a  fine  swimming  hole  up  the 
creek  a  mile  or  so.  Old  man  McCord  wanted  to  take 
a  swim.  Immediately,  Tony,  the  Indian,  asked  Breck- 
enridge  if  he  and  his  party  could  not  go  along  and 
shoot  some  fish  with  their  arrows.  Breckenridge 
consented,  and  I  volunteered  to  go  along,  saying 
that  a  bath  would  not  hurt  me  in  the  least.  I  was 
satisfied  that  the  Indians  would  try  to  escape. 

"We  reached  the  swimming  hole  in  due  time,  and 
McCord  took  his  bath,  while  I  sat  on  the  bank,  the 
Indians  meantime  being  very  intent  on  their  fishing. 
They  got  several  pike  and  suckers  and  appeared  to 
be  very  much  interested  in  the  sport. 

After  McCord  left  the  water,  I  stripped  and 
plunged  in.  I  had  no  sooner  struck  the  water  than 
a  whoop  rang  out,  and,  like  a  flash,  every  Indian 
leaped  into  the  brush  and  started  to  run  up  the  creek. 
McCord  was  too  slow  to  stop  them.  I  sprang  up  the 
bank,  seized  my  six-shooter  and  put  after  them.  I 
chased  them  for  a  mile  and  got  only  one  flying  shot, 
but  did  no  damage.  In  the  course  of  the  chase  I 
suddenly  found  myself  running  full  tilt  past  a  house 
that  stood  amid  some  trees  not  far  from  the  creek. 
There  were  some  members  of  the  household  standing 
in  the  doorway,  doubtless  attracted  by  the  scudding 
Indians.  I  tortured  my  naked  feet  frightfully  in  the 
course  of  that  run ;  nevertheless,  I  managed  to  make 
a  wide  detour  around  that  house  on  my  return  to 
camp.  The  last  I  saw  of  the  Butte  Creeks  they  were 
streaking  it  like  quails  up  the  hill  toward  where  a 
section  of  the  Richardson  rock-wall  now  stands. 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  37 

It  was  about  this  time  that  word  came  to  me  that 
the  Indians  had  visited  my  place  on  Deer  Creek, 
burned  my  house  and  barn,  killed  five  head  of  cattle 
and  practically  cleaned  me  out.  My  brother,  Jack, 
was  then  living  with  me.  Shortly  before  this,  during 
a  trip  to  Marysville,  he  had  purchased  a  seventy-five- 
dollar  suit  of  clothes.  Some  time  later,  up  Deer 
Creek  Canyon,  I  killed  an  Indian  who  had  on  the 
vest  and  trousers  of  that  suit. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IT  was  decided  to  give  the  Mill  Creeks 
another  blow.  We  felt  satisfied  that  those 
who  had  escaped  from  Forest  Ranch  had 
joined  with  another  party  in  Deer  Creek. 
The  main  party,  including  Garner's  force, 
was  to  march  back  across  the  foothills  and  into 
the  pinery  as  far  as  Cold  Springs,  which  lies  on  top 
of  the  mountain  south  of  Deer  Creek,  while  scouting 
parties  were  looking  for  fresh  Indian  sign  in  the 
surrounding  country. 

Ad  Williams  and  I  pushed  north  to  Deer  Creek 
and  then  advanced  up  the  rugged  canyon  of  that 
stream.  On  the  second  day  out  we  struck  a  fresh 
trail  and  that  evening  located  the  Indians'  camp 
in  the  bottom  of  the  canyon,  perhaps  two  miles 
above  where  Tom  Polk's  cabin  now  stands. 

We  swung  back  to  Cold  Springs  and  made  our 
report.  The  main  party  at  once  dropped  over  the 
ridge  into  the  big  canyon  and  began  its  slow,  cau- 
tious march  toward  the  camp.  When  night  fell  again 
we  were  not  more  than  a  mile  below  the  camp.  The 
Indians  gave  no  indications  of  being  alarmed.  Our 
plans  were  accordingly  made  for  the  attack.  During 
the  hours  of  darkness  we  would  creep  forward 
through  the   steep,   tangled  ravines,   surround   the 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  39 

sleeping  Indians,  and  strike  as  soon  as  it  became 
light  enough  to  draw  bead. 

The  Indians  were  strung  out  for  some  distance 
along  the  south  side  of  the  stream.  It  was  broad 
daylight  before  we  were  opposite  the  lower  ones. 
I  was  advancing  with  a  number  of  others  as  rapidly 
as  possible  along  the  steep  hillside,  in  order  to  get 
on  the  up-stream  side,  and  was  probably  midway 
of  the  scattered  camp,  when  a  rifle  suddenly  rang 
out  from  somewhere  in  the  rear  of  our  line.  Sim- 
mons had  spied  a  dusky  form  rising  above  a  bowlder 
and,  thinking  that  we  were  discovered,  had  fired. 

The  alarmed  Indians  at  once  fled  up-stream.  We 
killed  a  number,  but  many  escaped  up  that  brushy, 
bowlder-strewn  canyon.  In  the  course  of  the  run- 
ning fight,  I  noticed  several  Indians  springing  down 
a  steep  bank  into  the  creek.  I  watched  for  them  to 
climb  up  the  farther  bank,  but  none  appeared.  Other 
searchers  up  and  down  the  stream  failed  to  discover 
them,  so  I  decided  that  the  best  way  to  find  what  had 
become  of  them  would  be  to  follow  them.  I  accord- 
ingly leaped  down  the  bank  into  the  stream.  The 
moment  I  struck  the  water  a  gun  snapped  close  be- 
hind me,  and,  glancing  back,  I  beheld  a  group  of  the 
Indians  huddled  together  in  water  nearly  waist  deep 
within  a  cavern  that  led  back  under  the  bank.  A 
young  man  called  **  Billy '^  was  in  their  midst,  and  it 
was  he  who  had  snapped  his  gun  at  me.  The  water 
had  probably  dampened  his  powder. 

I  at  once  called  to  the  men  on  the  bank  above  that 
I  had  found  the  runaways,  and,  throwing  my  gun  on 


40  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

this  Billy,  ordered  him  to  march  out  and  surrender. 
He  did  so,  and  all  the  others,  about  a  dozen  in  num- 
ber, followed.  They  were  mostly  squaws  and  chil- 
dren. 

Several  of  our  party  knew  this  Billy  to  be  a  dan- 
gerous and  troublesome  customer.  I  kept  hold  of  his 
wrist  after  I  got  up  the  bank,  not  intending  that  he 
should  try  any  of  his  slippery  tricks  upon  me.  I 
asked  him  if  he  knew  who  had  shot  Lindsay,  and  he 
gruffly  replied: 

"I  shoot  him." 

After  the  ball  was  over  I  led  Billy  up  to  Brecken- 
ridge  and  said  that  he  had  confessed  to  shooting 
Lindsay.  The  captain  was  a  peculiar  man.  He  was 
usually  very  deliberate  in  his  movements,  but  was 
possessed  of  great  strength.  He  put  the  question  to 
the  Indian  himself,  as  calmly  as  a  teacher  might  ask 
a  pupil  his  name: 

**Do  you  know  who  shot  Lindsay?" 

^'I  shoot  him." 

And  the  captain  replied,  very  calmly,  ''Then  I 
will  shoot  you,"  and  he  proceeded  to  pull  his  re- 
volver from  its  scabbard  as  leisurely  as  though  he 
were  about  to  indulge  in  target  practice.  As  he  was 
raising  the  weapon,  and  while  its  muzzle  was  still 
pointing  downward,  it  was  discharged.  Immediately 
I  let  go  my  hold  of  the  Indian's  wrist  and  slapped 
my  hand  to  my  side.  The  bullet  had  struck  a  stone, 
glanced  upward,  bored  through  the  two  thicknesses 
of  my  heavy  belt,  and,  flattened  like  a  coin,  lay  burn- 
ing under  my  skin.     The  way  I  flung  off  that  belt 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  41 

and  tore  at  that  hot  lead  was  certainly  not  slow,  and 
afforded  some  of  the  boys  much  merriment. 

Meanwhile,  the  Indian,  freed  from  my  grip,  had 
grappled  with  Breckenridge  and  the  two  were  in  the 
midst  of  a  desperate  struggle.  Thinking  the  captain 
hard  pressed,  some  of  the  boys  were  for  rushing  to 
his  assistance,  but  I  waved  them  back  and  told  them 
that  any  man  who  was  so  many  kinds  of  a  fool  as  to 
let  off  his  gun  accidentally  deserved  no  better  treat- 
ment than  to  be  killed  by  a  thieving  Mill  Creek. 
However,  Breckenridge  soon  overpowered  his  foe 
and  killed  him. 

After  this  young  Indian  was  finished,  we  collected 
our  prisoners  and  started  down  the  canyon,  but  soon 
found  that  there  was  another  member  of  the  tribe 
who  was  bent  on  making  us  trouble.  This  was  an 
Indian  who  was  called  **The  Doctor.**  He  was 
really  a  chief.  His  squaw  was  in  our  possession  and 
the  chief  certainly  put  up  a  game  fight  against  odds. 

We  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when  he  raised 
up  from  behind  a  rock  a  short  distance  ahead  and 
fired,  but  his  bullet  went  wild.  We  gave  chase,  but 
he  disappeared,  only  to  repeat  his  ambush  act  several 
times,  always,  for  some  reason,  failing  to  get  his 
man. 

Finally  we  came  to  a  halt  in  a  plum  thicket  not 
far  above  the  present  site  of  the  Polk  barn.  Most  of 
the  boys  were  helping  themselves  to  plums,  the  rest 
of  us  guarding  the  prisoners.  Suddenly  the  old  chief 
arose  in  the  very  center  of  that  plum  thicket  and 
tried  another  flying  shot.    He  sank  down  again  im- 


42  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

mediately,  and,  in  the  confusion  of  the  moment,  es- 
caped from  the  thicket,  slipped  down  to  the  creek, 
and  crossed.  Then  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
stream  he  continued  to  shoot  at  us.  We  had  a  pretty 
good  chance  at  him  now  and  soon  sent  him  to  shelter 
in  a  pile  of  rocks.  It  would  be  a  difficult  matter  for 
him  to  get  to  another  shelter  from  where  he  was,  so 
we  kept  him  in  play  while  Hi  Good  slipped  across 
the  creek  and  made  a  detour  to  get  above  him.  Soon 
Good's  rifle  cracked  and  in  a  moment  the  Indian's 
body  came  rolling  down  the  steep  hillside.  His 
squaw  gave  one  glance  at  the  lifeless  form,  then 
withdrew  her  gaze  with  no  sign  whatever  of  excite- 
ment or  grief.  Some  of  the  other  squaws,  however, 
sent  up  a  dismal  wail,  which  was  probably  the  death- 
song  of  their  tribe. 

Many  stories  have  been  circulated  regarding  a 
bear-skin  full  of  watches  and  coin  which  this  old 
"Doctor"  is  believed  to  have  left  within  the  cave 
under  the  creek  bank  where  the  Indians  had  taken 
shelter.  There  may  have  been  some  small  founda- 
tion in  fact  for  these  reports,  but  I  have  never  be- 
lieved that  there  was  wealth  enough  hidden  in  that 
cave  to  pay  a  man  for  the  hardships  of  a  trip  into 
the  canyon  to  get  it. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

RETURNING  to  the  valley,  we  again  made  camp 
on  Rock  Creek.  It  was  decided  that  the  pris- 
oners should  be  taken  to  the  Yumalacca  Res- 
ervation, which  lay  on  the  western  side  of  the  Sacra- 
mento Valley,  in  the  southern  part  of  what  is  now 
Tehama  county.  Hi  Good  and  I  made  the  journey, 
having  hired  a  team  and  wagon  for  the  purpose. 

Upon  our  return,  our  party  broke  up,  the  two 
months  for  which  we  had  enlisted  having  expired 
some  time  before.  Those  of  us  who  lived  in  the  Deer 
Creek  country  started  afoot  across  the  plans  toward 
our  homes.  We  had  gone  but  a  couple  of  miles  when 
we  spied  an  infantry  company  marching  toward  the 
hills.  The  two  parties  came  together  at  a  point  on 
the  plains  about  one  and  one-half  miles  east  of  my 
present  residence. 

We  found  the  soldiers  to  be  under  the  command 
of  Kibbey.  He  had  learned  of  our  campaign  against 
the  Indians,  and  had  come  up  in  person  to  wind  up 
the  affair.  He  listened  attentively  to  a  verbal  report 
of  our  experiences,  and  then  took  down  the  names 
of  the  six  of  us  who  had  been  so  long  upon  the  In- 
dian's trail.  He  said  that  we  would  be  enrolled  in 
the  regular  service  and  should  share  in  all  govern- 
ment awards  for  the  duty  done.     However,  that  is 


44  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

the  last  I  have  ever  heard  of  the  matter.  Four  of 
our  party  were  prevailed  upon  to  go  with  the  sol- 
diers as  guides,  but  Breckenridge  and  Hi  Good  and 
I  went  on  home. 

The  history  of  Kibbey's  campaign  can  be  quickly 
summed  up.  He  roamed  through  the  mountains  for 
several  weeks,  going  as  far  east  as  the  Big  Meadows, 
where  he  seized  a  number  of  perfectly  harmless  In- 
dians as  prisoners.  He  returned  by  way  of  Butte 
Creek,  where  he  got  more  prisoners,  and,  proceeding 
to  Chico,  ' '  captured ' '  the  Bidwell  Indians  and  trans- 
ported the  entire  lot  to  the  Reservation.  He  did  not 
get  a  single  Mill  Creek,  or  any  other  Indian  who  had 
ever  caused  the  whites  any  trouble. 

General  Bidwell  promptly  went  to  Sacramento 
and  gave  bonds  for  the  good  behavior  of  his  Indians, 
whereupon  the  Government  authorities  released 
them,  and  they  returned  to  Chico. 

The  other  Indians  jumped  the  Reservation,  singly 
or  in  small  squads,  and  drifted  back  to  their  former 
haunts.  Some  perhaps  became  contented  with  the 
life  there  and  remained.  However,  taken  as  a  move- 
ment to  rid  the  foothills  of  the  bad  Indians,  Kibbey's 
campaign  was  an  absolute  failure.  In  one  way,  it 
resulted  in  making  matters  worse  in  our  part  of  the 
country,  for  the  more  dangerous  of  the  Indians,  on 
returning  from  the  Reservation,  were  apt  to  bring 
others  of  like  character  with  them,  and,  in  this  way, 
undoubtedly,  a  number  of  tough  redskins  were  added 
to  the  bands  in  the  hills. 

During  the  winter  of  '59  and  '60  the  raids  of  the 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  45 

Indians  followed  one  another  with  startling  swift- 
ness and  regularity.  Scarcely  a  week  passed  that 
some  rancher  or  stockman  did  not  suffer  the  loss  of 
cattle,  horses  or  mules,  and  every  precaution  taken 
to  guard  against  the  slippery  red-men  proved  futile. 
Finally,  they  grew  so  bold  as  to  pay  a  visit  to  Hi 
Good's  rock  corral  on  Deer  Creek  and  to  drive  off 
some  work  cattle  that  belonged  to  Good  and  me. 

At  this  time,  a  young  man  named  Bowman,  but 
whom  we  always  called  ''Bully,"  was  living  with 
Hi.  ''Bully"  had  had  no  experience  in  fighting  In- 
dians, but  he  seemed  a  bold  young  fellow  and  we  had 
confidence  in  him. 

The  three  of  us  at  once  set  out  after  the  cattle 
thieves.  We  had  no  difficulty  in  following  their 
trail,  the  Indians  having  become  arrogant  through 
their  recent  successes.  We  trailed  them  up  Dry 
Creek  and  located  their  temporary  camp  near  the 
head  of  that  stream,  some  distance  below  the  pine 
timber. 

When  discovered,  the  Indians  were  engaged  in 
butchering  a  part  of  the  stolen  cattle.  We  were  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine  from  them,  and,  hav- 
ing a  good  view  of  their  position,  opened  fire  upon 
them.  They  seized  their  rifles  and  returned  our  fire. 
We  noticed  immediately  that  they  had  our  range 
perfectly,  and  were  dropping  their  bullets  very  close 
to  us.  In  fact,  it  was  but  a  few  moments  until  I 
heard  Good  cursing  savagely. 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  called. 

"They've   plugged   me!"   he   replied,   then,   be- 


46  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

tween  a  groan  and  an  oath,  added:  '*I  believe  my 
leg's  busted." 

I  made  my  way  to  his  side  and  found  that  he  had 
been  shot  through  the  thigh.  The  wound  was  very 
painful  and  left  him  for  a  time  almost  helpless. 

A  shout  of  triumph  from  the  Indians  told  us  that 
they  were  aware  of  their  success.  The  bullets  were 
falling  thicker  and  closer  each  moment,  and  I  felt 
certain  that  we  would  soon  all  be  picked  off  unless 
we  could  make  a  speedy  change  in  the  course  of  the 
battle. 

I  told  Hi  to  drop  down  behind  a  big  bowlder, 
while  ''Bully"  and  I  should  try  to  force  the  Indians 
out  of  their  present  position.  Good  did  as  I  re- 
quested, and  ''Bully"  and  I  made  a  sudden  charge 
forward.  We  dashed  down  the  slope,  thus  placing 
ourselves  on  the  hillside  closer  to  and  below  the  In- 
dians, and  then  began  our  advance  toward  them  by 
leaping  from  one  shelter  to  another.  Immediately, 
as  I  expected,  their  bullets  began  to  fly  high.  For  a 
time  it  was  give  and  take  at  a  lively  rate,  and  I  no- 
ticed that  "Bully"  was  behaving  like  a  veteran. 
Since  our  every  rush  was  toward  the  front,  however, 
the  Indians  soon  began  to  give  way,  and  then  we 
hustled  them  the  harder. 

As  they  passed  up  the  hill  in  retreat,  we  began 
to  hear  Hi's  rifle  cracking  from  across  the  ravine. 
Soon  he  set  up  a  shout.  We  thought  that  he  might 
be  hard  pressed,  so  hurried  to  him,  but  found  that  he 
only  wanted  us  to  assist  him  to  his  feet.  He  was  not 
suffering  so  badly  now,  but  was  unable  to  walk.    We 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  47 

did  not  carry  him,  but  placed  him  between  us  and 
then  had  him  thrown  his  arms  over  our  shoulders. 
In  this  manner  we  made  our  way  over  the  twenty 
rough  miles  of  the  foothills  to  the  valley.  Not  only 
did  we  support  our  wounded  comrade,  but  we  drove 
before  us  four  of  the  oxen  that  we  recovered.         < 

Good 's  hurt  was  only  a  flesh  wound,  and  we  were 
in  no  particular  hurry  to  reach  our  homes,  as  we 
did  not  think  it  necessary  to  procure  the  services  of 
a  doctor.    In  a  few  weeks  Good  was  fully  recovered. 

Many  of  the  Mill  Creeks  at  this  time  were  good 
shots.  I  have  frequently  found  where  they  have 
indulged  in  target  practice,  and,  considering  the  dis- 
tances and  size  of  the  targets,  am  convinced  that 
they  could  shoot  as  accurately  as  the  average  white 
man.  But  they  possessed  two  weaknesses  that  are 
common  to  many  whites,— once  get  them  rattled,  and 
the  danger  of  their  hitting  you  became  lessened  by 
many  degrees;  and  they  could  not  shoot  accurately 
down  hill.  It  was  for  the  first  of  these  reasons,  large- 
ly, that  we  always  planned  to  give  them  a  surprise. 
They  invariably  outnumbered  us  and  it  became 
necessary  to  even  up  matters  as  much  as  possible  by 
rattling  them  in  the  start. 

During  these  times  Hi  and  I,  sometimes  with 
"Bully"  and  sometimes  by  ourselves,  made  many 
scouting  trips  into  the  hills  and  managed  to  reduce 
the  number  of  bad  Indians  on  almost  every  trip. 
Still,  their  numbers  remained  undiminished  as  far  as 
we  could  judge  by  the  damage  done,  and  we  became 


-48  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

convinced   that   they  were   being   constantly   re-in- 
forced. 

I  often  told  Hi  that  it  was  a  mistake  to  leave  the 
squaws  in  the  hills,  since  it  was  but  natural  for  the 
J3ucks  to  find  them,  and  as  fast  as  the  latter  were  put 
out  of  the  way,  others  from  the  Reservation,  or  from 
more  distant  parts  of  the  mountains,  would  take 
their  places. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ABOUT  the  middle  of  the  winter  (1859),  Hi 
Good,  Carter  and  I  indulged  in  a  sort  of  wild- 
goose  chase  which  netted  us  next  to  nothing 
in  the  way  of  success,  but  which  brought  me  nearer 
death  than  many  close-range  gun-fights  have  since 
done.  Hi  had  become  convinced  that  we  could  un- 
earth a  winter  camp  of  the  Indians  by  a  careful 
search  up  Deer  Creek  Canyon. 

At  first  I  opposed  his  plans,  but  at  last  consented 
to  accompany  him  and  Carter.  We  set  out  afoot, 
each  carrying  his  rifle,  six-shooter  and  rations,  be- 
sides a  generous  roll  of  blankets,  for  the  mid-winter 
season,  even  in  California,  does  not  permit  of  a  bed 
of  dried  leaves.  I  was  not  yet  twenty  years  of  age, 
and  so,  of  course,  was  buoyed  up  by  the  elasticity  of 
youth.  My  companions  were  only  a  few  years  older. 
If  I  am  not  mistaken,  I  was  the  youngest  member  of 
our  party  in  all  our  principal  campaigns  against  the 
Indians. 

We  moved  up  Deer  Creek  under  threatening 
skies.  For  two  days  we  pushed  deeper  into  the  can- 
yon, reaching  a  point  rather  higher  than  the  Jackson 
Mine,  but  found  no  fresh  signs  of  Indians.  The  third 
day  out  we  swung  over  by  Bluff  Camp  and  then,  as 
the  inevitable  Christmas  storm  shrouded  the  gloomy 


50  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

forests  and  dreary  foothills,  we  tuerned  our  faces 
toward  the  valley. 

A  bad  day  we  had  of  it,  especially  after  leaving 
the  shelter  of  the  pines.  Rain  soaked  our  clothing, 
and  then  came  a  fine  drizzle,  half  snow,  half  rain,  to 
chill  us  to  the  marrow.  A  few  miles  below  the  tim- 
ber belt,  with  the  night  rapidly  drawing  on,  we 
halted  beside  a  gnarled  digger  pine  and  built  a  fire. 
And  beside  that  fire  we  spent  the  night,— not  sleep- 
ing, mind  you,  nor  even  lying  down,  but  revolving 
slowly  so  that  the  soaking  and  roasting  processes, 
going  on  at  the  same  time  on  different  surfaces  of 
our  bodies,  might  be  equally  distributed. 

Our  search  so  far  having  proved  fruitless,  we  had 
ample  time  during  the  night  to  discuss  plans  for  the 
future.  Good  argued  that  the  Indians  must  have 
moved  over  into  Mill  Creek,  but  along  about  this 
time  my  memory  began  to  inform  me  very  persist- 
ently that  I  had  promised  to  accompany  two  young 
ladies  on  the  following  night  to  a  dance  at  Oak 
Grove,  that  being  the  name  then  applied  to  the  Phil- 
lips place  on  Pine  Creek. 

Hi  finally  announced  that  at  break  of  day  we 
would  start  for  Mill  Creek.  I  told  him  that  he  could 
count  me  out,  as  I  was  going  to  the  dance.  He 
laughed  at  me,  and  told  me  that  I  would  never  get 
there.  That  made  me  the  more  determined  that  I 
would,  so  at  daybreak  we  split,  Good  and  Carter 
making  toward  the  big  canyon  to  the  north,  while  I 
started  straight  for  the  valley. 

It  was  still  raining  in  torrents.     I  passed  down 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  51 

the  ridge  that  divides  the  two  principal  branches  of 
Dry  Creek,  keeping  a  little  over  the  backbone  so  as 
to  be  sheltered  from  the  wind.  I  was  striding  along, 
thinking  very  little  of  Indians  and  very  much  of 
more  agreeable  objects,  when  suddenly  I  shot  out 
into  open  view  of  a  large  party  of  the  redskins, 
snuggled  under  a  drooping  cave  not  sixty  yards 
away. 

They  saw  me  as  soon  as  I  them.  There  was  a 
general  scramble  among  them  for  their  weapons, 
but  while  they  scrambled  I  slid  around  the  point  and 
beat  a  swift  retreat  up  the  next  ravine.  I  saw  that 
I  had  no  business  at  close  range  tackling  that  Christ- 
mas party.  I  did  not  fire  a  short,  nor  did  the  In- 
dians. Later,  when  I  had  gained  a  loftier  position 
on  the  next  ridge  to  the  south,  I  paused  long  enough 
to  spy  them  out  once  more  in  the  cave,  but  there 
was  no  evidence  to  show  that  they  were  attempting 
a  pursuit. 

I  kept  on  my  course  down  the  slope  of  the  hills 
and  reached  the  footlog  opposite  Good's  cabin  about 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  This  log  was  one  that 
had  been  felled  as  a  bridge  and  then  flattened  along 
the  upper  surface  so  as  to  afford  safer  footing.  I 
had  crossed  it  many  times  and  felt  no  hesitation  in 
stepping  upon  it  now,  although  the  creek  was  flow- 
ing, a  turbulent  flood,  beneath  it. 

I  had  reached  the  middle  of  the  passage  and  was 
directly  over  the  wickedest  part  of  the  current,  when 
that  treacherous  log  snapped  beneath  me  and  in  a 
second  I  was  being  tumbled  down  a  crazy  reach  of 


52  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

the  stream  like  a  chip,— and  not  floating,  either,  for 
I  was  under  as  much  as  I  was  above  the  surface  and 
felt,  at  times,  as  though  my  head  were  scraping  the 
bottom.  I  tried  to  swim,  but  I  might  as  well  have 
tried  to  walk  on  the  surface.  In  fact,  in  a  very  short 
time  it  dawned  upon  me  that  I  was  drowning.  I  made 
a  frantic  effort  to  seize  something  for  support,  and 
then,  without  a  touch  of  real  pain,  I  lost  conscious- 
ness. 

An  old  man  named  Dean  was  at  this  time  living 
with  Good.  He  had  been  seated  at  the  cabin  gazing 
out  toward  the  rapidly  rising  water  in  the  creek. 
In  the  course  of  their  journeys  up  or  down  the  banks 
his  eyes  had  detected  the  footbridge,  staunch  and 
safe.  When  next  his  sight  fell  upon  the  same  spot, 
the  bridge  was  gone.  This  interested  him.  After 
musing  upon  the  matter  for  a  time,  it  slowly  dawned 
upon  him  that  someone  might  have  gone  down  with 
the  log.  He  promptly  ran  to  the  bank,  followed  it 
down-stream  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  and 
there,  in  an  eddy,  spied  my  body  lying  next  the 
bank. 

He  rushed  to  where  I  lay,  nearly  submerged  and 
apparently  dead,  seized  me  by  the  feet  and  dragged 
me  up  the  bank.  My  blankets  and  six-shooter  were 
still  strapped  to  me,  while  I  grasped  my  rifle  in  one 
hand  and  a  clump  of  willow  bushes  in  the  other.  It 
was  perhaps  a  lucky  chance  that  he  drew  me  out  of 
the  water  and  up  the  bank  feet  first,  for  that  caused 
the  water  to  run  from  my  stomach  and  lungs  and 
doubtless  saved  my  life. 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  53 

I  soon  revived,  but  felt  far  from  gay.  By  means 
of  strong  draughts  of  whiskey  and  of  vigorous  rub- 
bing I  was  soon  put  upon  my  feet,  when  I  walked 
home.  I  accompanied  my  girl  friends  to  the  dance 
that  night,  but  I  did  not  dance. 

It  was  at  this  gathering  that  I  first  met  Mr.  Ira 
Wetherby,  who  has  since  become  so  well  and  so 
favorably  known  to  me. 

Good  and  Carter  did  not  get  home  until  the  fol- 
lowing day,  having  failed  to  locate  any  Indians  in 
the  canyon  of  Mill  Creek. 


CHAPTER  X. 

IN  June  of  1862,  the  whites  of  the  upper  valley 
were  roused  as  they  had  never  been  before  by  the 
atrocities  of  the  Mill  Creeks.  A  skulking  band 
swept  through  the  foothills,  killing  stock,  burning 
cabins,  and  injuring  the  whites  in  every  way  pos- 
sible, until  they  reached  the  Keefer  ridge.  There 
they  lay  in  wait  for  a  teamster,  who  was  hauling  for 
Keefer,  and  shot  him  to  death  beside  his  team. 

Thirsting  for  more  blood,  they  dropped  down 
into  Rock  Creek  Canyon  and  slipped  toward  the 
valley  where  a  number  of  settlers  lived.  Unfortu- 
nately, three  of  the  Hickok  children  were  gathering 
blackberries  along  the  creek  side,  some  distance 
above  their  home,  which  was  on  the  place  now  known 
as  the  Burch  ranch.  The  oldest  of  the  three  was  a 
graceful  girl  of  sixteen,  the  second  a  girl  of  fourteen, 
and  the  third  a  boy  some  years  younger. 

The  two  girls  were  shot  to  death  with  arrows,  and 
their  bodies  left  in  the  bushes  beside  the  stream, 
while  the  little  boy  was  dragged  away  into  the  hills. 

The  Indians  knew  that  these  murders  could  not 
go  long  unnoticed,  as  there  was  considerable  travel 
up  and  down  the  Keefer  road.  In  fact,  the  Bodies 
of  the  murdered  girls  were  found  late  in  the  after- 
noon of  the  day  on  which  they  were  killed,  and  then 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  55 

indeed  were  the  whites  aroused  to  the  danger  that  so 
constantly  hovered  over  their  homes. 

Many  parties  were  raised  and  hurried  into  the 
hills.  In  fact,  the  feeling  against  the  Indians  was  so 
bitter  that  it  was  proposed  to  make  a  general  clean- 
up, even  of  the  friendly  Indians,  of  which  there  were 
camps  at  Bid  well's,  at  Keefer's,  and  at  the  Phillips 
place  on  Pine  Creek;  but  Mr.  Hickok,  the  bereaved 
father,  forbade  this  being  done  on  his  behalf,  and,  of 
course,  at  such  a  time,  his  wishes  were  respected. 

I  was  asked  to  take  up  the  chase,  but  there  was 
sickness  in  my  family  at  the  time  and  I  could  not 
leave  home.  However,  Hi  Good  and  ''Bully"  re- 
sponded to  the  call,  and  Sandy  Young,  boss  vaquero 
on  the  Bidwell  Rancho,  was  of  Hi's  party.  This,  I 
think,  was  the  first  occasion  on  which  these  two  men 
worked  together  on  an  Indian  trail. 

They  traced  the  Indians  northward,  past  Deer 
Creek,  Dry  Creek,  and  Mill  Creek,  and  finally  over- 
hauled them,  I  think,  in  the  head  of  Antelope  Creek 
east  of  Red  Bluff.  They  found  the  mangled  remains 
of  the  captured  white  boy  amid  signs  which  indi- 
cated that  he  had  been  made  to  move  around  in  a 
circle,  probably  being  tied,  while  he  was  stoned  to 
death  by  the  childcen  of  the  savages. 

The  whites  made  a  pretty  good  clean-up  on  this 
occasion.  A  day  or  two  later  I  was  sitting  on  my 
porch  when  Hi  and  Sandy  rode  past  on  their  way 
home.  Hi  showed  me  eight  fresh  scalps  that  he  had 
tied  to  his  saddle. 

And  still  the  Mill  Creeks  remained  in  sufficient 


56  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

numbers  to  leave  their  terrible  mark  upon  the  white 
man's  home.  Somewhat  later,  as  I  recall  it,  than 
the  killing  of  the  Hickok  children,  the  Indians  floated 
through  the  hills  still  farther  south,  and  this  time  the 
blow  fell  upon  the  Lewis  family,  who  lived  in  the 
Clear  Creek  country,  about  midway  between  Chico 
and  Oroville. 

As  on  the  former  occasion,  the  blood-thirsty 
wretches  slipped  down  to  the  very  edge  of  the  val- 
ley, and  made  their  attack  by  stealth  upon  those 
who  were  helpless  to  defend  themselves.  The  story 
as  it  came  to  me  was  like  this :  The  three  Lewis  chil- 
dren, a  girl  and  two  boys,  were  on  their  road  home 
from  school.  They  had  reached  a  brook  and  the 
oldest  boy  was  stooping  over  to  drink,  when  the 
hidden  Indians  shot  him  through  the  head,  killing 
him  instantly.  The  girl  and  younger  boy,  the  latter 
a  little  fellow  just  starting  to  school,  were  seized 
and  hustled  into  the  hills.  The  little  boy  soon  be- 
came leg-weary  and  his  brains  were  dashed  out 
against  a  rock.  The  girl  was  hurried  forward  until 
night  came  on. 

The  party  was  then  well  up  on  a  hillside  above 
a  stream.  For  some  reason,  a  portion  of  the  Indians 
pushed  forward  and  left  the  captive  in  charge  of 
one  of  their  number  as  guard.  This  guard  seemed 
especially  anxious  to  be  permitted  to  follow  his  fel- 
lows. He  placed  the  girl  upon  a  large  rock,  motioned 
for  her  to  remain  there,  and  then  set  out  a  short 
distance  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  other  Indians. 

The  moment  his  back  was  turned,  the  plucky 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  57 

little  girl  slid  down  from  the  rock,  but  her  keeper 
was  stealthily  watching  her.  He  ran  back  to  her, 
seized  her  and  shook  her,  and,  drawing  his  knife, 
made  motions  as  though  about  to  cut  her  throat. 
She  cowered  and  slunk  away  as  if  in  abject  fear,  and, 
thinking  that  he  had  her  completely  intimidated,  he 
placed  her  once  more  upon  the  rock  and  moved 
away. 

However,  the  girl's  wit  had  not  deserted  her. 
The  Indian  had  no  sooner  moved  away  than  she 
slipped  down  from  the  rock  and  darted  into  a  little 
ravine  that  creased  the  hillside.  The  darkness 
favored  her.  She  made  her  way  to  the  bottom  of  the 
canyon,  discovered  which  way  the  water  was  flowing, 
and,  in  spite  of  the  anxious  search  of  the  whole  party 
of  Indians,  escaped  and  made  her  way  to  the  valley. 

I  think  that  it  was  on  this  same  raid  that  the  In- 
dians robbed  the  home  of  one  ^'Portugee  Al,"  who 
lived  in  the  head  of  Little  Chico  Creek,  taking, 
among  other  articles,  his  wife's  hat.  They  also,  on 
their  return  toward  Mill  Creek,  robbed  a  man  named 
Bolivar,  who  lived  near  the  present  site  of  the 
Richardson  Springs. 

A  party  was  promptly  mustered,  of  which  I  was 
a  member.  Sim  and  Jake  Moak  of  Chico  were  also 
of  the  party.  We  struck  through  the  hills  and  picked 
up  the  Indians'  trail  south  of  Deer  Creek.  It  led 
down  into  the  deep  canyon,  crossed  Deer  Creek  just 
above  the  mouth  of  Sulphur  Creek,  and  headed  di- 
rectly up  toward  the  towering  cliff  that  walls  the 
gorge  on  the  north. 


58  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

Just  east  of  the  principal  cliff  is  a  steep,  wedge- 
like defile,  up  which  it  is  possible  for  one  to  climb 
to  the  top.  Up  this  narrow  pass  we  crept  single  file. 
Why  the  Indians  did  not  turn  on  us  and  annihilate 
our  entire  party  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me, 
for  we  found  them  on  the  flat  just  beyond  the  crest. 

They  spied  us  before  we  were  fairly  upon  them, 
and  away  they  went,  dodging  and  ducking  through 
the  thickets  like  frightened  deer.  I  brought  down 
one  with  a  short  from  my  double-barrel,  but  he  was 
up  and  streaking  it  through  the  brush  before  I  could 
lay  hands  upon  him.  Several  of  us  followed  him  for 
a  half-mile  or  more  down  the  slope  toward  Little  Dry 
Creek  before  we  finished  him. 

We  had  but  one  horse  with  us  on  this  trip,  and 
this  animal  we  left  at  Sulphur  Creek.  In  the  course 
of  the  attack  and  chase,  I  lost  my  hat,  but  among 
the  plunder  recaptured  from  the  Indians  was  found 
the  gaily-beribboned  headgear  which  had  been  stolen 
from  ''Portugee  Al's"  wife.  On  the  homeward  trip, 
the  boys  insisted  that  I  should  wear  the  recovered 
hat,  in  place  of  the  one  I  had  lost,  and  that  I  should 
ride  the  horse.  I  did  so,  but  it  can  be  imagined  the 
figure  I  presented,  wearing  that  absurd  hat  and  with 
an  Indian  scalp  tied  to  my  saddle. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

IN  August  of  this  year  the  Indians  paid  me  a 
friendly  call.  It  was  a  Sunday  morning.  Upon 
arising  and  stepping  out  of  doors,  my  attention 
was  at  once  drawn  to  a  column  of  smoke  curling  up 
from  my  barn.  My  neighbors,  the  Carters,  were 
gone  at  this  time,  and  the  three  boys  of  the  family, 
fearful  of  a  night  attack  at  the  hands  of  the  Mill 
Creeks,  had  come  to  my  place  to  sleep. 

I  immediately  shouted  to  them  that  the  barn  was 
afire  and  started  on  a  run  for  the  building.  One 
glance  inside  convinced  me  that  the  fire  had  but 
recently  been  started  and  could  be  easily  stopped. 
Some  loose  hay  had  been  flung  down  in  the  shed 
where  my  horses  had  been  stabled,  and  fired,  but  the 
blaze  had  not  yet  reached  the  mow  or  taken  hold  of 
the  building.  The  glance  that  told  me  this  informed 
me  likewise  that  my  two  horses,  that  had  been  left 
stabled  the  evening  before,  were  gone. 

The  bank  of  the  creek  was  but  a  couple  of  rods 
away.  I  seized  a  bucket  and  sprang  toward  it.  As 
I  dipped  up  a  bucket  of  water,  I  perceived  Indian 
tracks  leading  into  the  stream.  Rocks  near  the  bank 
were  still  wet  from  the  wash  caused  by  the  hurry- 
ing men  or  beasts.  In  fact,  glancing  farther,  I  saw 
one  of  the  horses  returning  toward  the  stream  on  the 
north  side. 


60  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

I  returned  with  the  bucket  of  water  and  soon 
had  the  fire  extinguished.  By  this  time  the  boys 
were  out,  so  while  I  secured  my  rifle  and  six-shooter, 
I  had  one  of  them  run  and  get  up  a  saddle  horse  that 
was  loose  in  the  pasture.  But  on  going  to  the  barn 
to  saddle  up,  I  found  myself  balked,  as  the  two  sad- 
dles that  I  had  left  hanging  in  the  barn  were  both 
gone. 

I  knew  that  it  would  be  useless  to  try  to  ride 
the  animal  bareback,  as  I  had  tried  it  several  times 
before,  always  to  meet  with  defeat;  and  yet  I  was 
not  in  a  humor  to  neglect  the  polite  attention  paid 
me  by  the  Indians.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  take  it  afoot,  and  so  I  started. 

Instead  of  crossing  the  creek  and  attempting  to 
overhaul  the  renegades  by  means  of  a  stern  chase, 
I  ran  at  top  speed  up  the  stream,  along  the  south 
bank.  I  reached  Hi  Good's  cabin,  after  a  run  of  a 
mile  and  a  half,  and  hailed  him,  telling  him  in  as  few 
words  as  possible  what  had  occurred. 

Good  snatched  up  his  weapons  and  joined  me.  I 
had  run  many  a  half-mile  race  with  Hi,  and  must 
admit  that  I  usually  took  second  money,  but  on  this 
day  I  was  to  see  him  reach  the  limit  of  his  powers  of 
endurance. 

We  crossed  the  creek  at  the  mouth  of  the  canyon, 
and,  still  running,  pressed  up  the  long  slope  directly 
toward  the  north.  We  knew  that  the  Indians  should 
be  down  nearer  the  plains  on  our  left. 

On  reaching  the  crest  that  overlooked  a  sharp- 
sided  ravine  called  Acorn  Hollow,  we  very  soon  spied 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  61 

the  Indians  a  half-mile  down  the  hollow,  and  per- 
haps a  quarter  of  a  mile  north  of  us.  They  had  evi- 
dently already  discovered  us,  for  they  remained  but 
a  moment  beside  the  stolen  horse,  which  we  found 
later  they  were  in  the  act  of  repacking,  and  then 
they  broke  into  a  hasty  retreat,  leaving  the  animal 
behind. 

They  did  not  attempt  to  swing  up  into  the  hills, 
but  instead  pushed  out  across  the  high,  open  plain 
that  extends  northward  toward  Dry  Creek.  There 
were  seven  of  them,  Billy  Sill  being  of  the  number. 
He  was  carrying  a  pair  of  my  buckskin  leggings 
across  his  arm. 

Taking  in  the  situation  at  a  glance.  Good  re- 
marked that  he  believed  he  could  run  down  the  hol- 
low, follow  the  Indians  out  onto  the  open  plain  and 
overhaul  them  before  they  reached  the  shelter  of 
Dry  Creek,  but  I  told  him  that  I  was  going  to  hold 
my  present  position  and  try  to  head  them  from 
finally  getting  into  Mill  Creek. 

Away  then  we  went  on  our  respective  courses.  I 
could  see  the  Indians  much  of  the  time  and  could  see 
Good  many  hundred  yards  behind  them.  His  turning 
down  the  hollow  added  a  half  mile  or  more  to  his 
course,  and  the  lead  this  gave  the  Indians  was  too 
much  for  him  to  overcome. 

When  the  Indians  scuttled  into  the  brushy  bottom 
of  Dry  Creek,  he  was  still  far  out  on  the  open  plain. 
After  leaving  this  depression,  the  redskins  swerved 
to  the  right  and  sped  up  the  long  slope  toward  the 
breaks  of  Mill  Creek.    The  many  miles  of  the  chase 


62  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

had  left  me  by  this  time  nearly  blown.  I  saw  that 
I  was  not  going  to  be  able  to  beat  the  Indians  to  the 
protecting  belt  of  timber  that  lay  on  the  crest  of  the 
slope.  However,  the  courses  we  were  now  pursuing 
were  bringing  us  gradually  nearer  together.  I  could 
see  a  dusky  form  now  and  then  gliding  upward 
through  the  trees  and  brush  that  sprinkled  the  hill- 
side. 

Putting  forth  a  mighty  effort,  I  increased  my 
pace  a  trifle,  and  keeping  this  up  for  an  eighth  of  a 
mile  or  so  reached  a  spot  from  which  I  believed  the 
scudding  Indians  must  come  into  view.  Almost  im- 
mediately I  saw  the  leader  swing  across  the  very 
space  I  had  picked  upon.  He  was  considerably  over 
two  hundred  yards  away,  but  I  knew  that  I  was  not 
going  to  get  closer,  so  I  threw  up  my  rifle  and  fired 
at  him.  I  missed,  and  he  swiftly  whirled  about  and 
returned  the  compliment.  This  gave  me  time  for 
my  second  barrel,  and  he  fell  at  the  crack  of  my  gun. 
The  balance  of  the  party  glided  like  lightning  be- 
hind covers  and  began  pouring  in  a  hot  fire  toward 
my  place  of  concealment.  Most  of  the  their  bullets 
flew  high,  as  was  invariably  the  case  when  the  red- 
skins were  aiming  downward.  In  fact,  it  was  only 
now  and  then  that  a  shot  struck  close  to  me.  On  the 
other  hand,  Good,  who  was  far  below  me  on  the  hill- 
side, had  a  perfect  shower  of  bullets  dropping  about 
him  during  the  entire  engagement.  He  was  so  com- 
pletely exhausted  by  the  long  run  across  the  plains 
that  he  did  not  get  into  the  fight  at  all. 

I  kept  pounding  away  as  long  as  the  Indians  re- 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  63 

turned  my  fire,  but  so  closely  did  they  cling  to  their 
cover  that  I  was  not  able  to  score  a  second  time. 
After  a  time  they  worked  back  toward  the  top  of  the 
ridge,  and,  carrying  off  their  wounded  comrade, 
made  good  their  escape  into  that  everlasting  haven 
of  refuge, — the  wilds  of  Mill  Creek's  Canyon. 

Then  I  returned  to  Hi  and  we  proceeded  to  help 
each  other  home.  The  tramp  back  across  the  plains 
was  one  of  the  hardest  jobs  I  have  ever  undertaken. 
Words  cannot  express  the  relief  we  both  felt  when 
we  at  length  reached  the  spot  where  the  abandoned 
horse  was  awaiting  us.  One  of  my  saddles  had  been 
cut  to  pieces  to  provide  straps  and  strings  for  tying 
the  stolen  plunder  onto  the  horse.  This  plunder  con- 
sisted principally  of  corn  and  other  vegetables  which 
the  Indians  had  collected  from  the  gardens  of  Deer 
Creek. 

We  reached  Hi's  cabin  late  in  the  afternoon  and 
were  quilje  ready  for  our  Sunday  breakfasts.  At  the 
Carter  place  we  found  quite  a  party  of  neighbors 
collected.  They  had  heard  the  firing  and  were  just 
on  the  point  of  starting  to  our  assistance. 

A  few  weeks  later  a  squaw  coming  from  the  hills 
reported  that  the  wounded  Indian  had  succumbed 
to  his  injuries,  after  a  few  days. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ONE  day  in  June,  1863,  Solomon  Gore,  who 
lived  on  Rock  Creek,  hurried  to  my  house 
and  Reported  that  the  Mill  Creeks  had  stolen 
two  horses  from  him.  He  asked  me  if  I  could  get 
the  animals  back.  I  replied  that  I  thought  I  could  if 
I  had  someone  to  accompany  me  to  the  hills.  Accord- 
ingly, Tom  Gore  and  Jack  Howser  agreed  to  go  with 
me. 

We  struck  off  northeasterly  through  the  hills  and 
were  not  long  in  finding  the  Indians'  trail.  I  had 
no  difficulty  in  following  it,  and  we  pushed  for- 
ward rapidly.  Shortly  before  night  we  met  one  of 
the  stolen  horses.  It  was  a  young  animal,  and  had 
evidently  escaped  from  the  Indians  in  some  way  and 
was  returning  to  its  master. 

We  had  started  so  late  in  the  day  that  night 
overtook  us  before  we  had  covered  many  miles.  We 
made  our  beds  by  simply  selecting  convenient  places 
to  stretch  our  frames  among  the  bowlders,  where  I, 
for  one,  slept  tranquilly  until  morning. 

With  the  break  of  day  we  were  up  and  once  more 
on  the  trail.  We  passed  through  the  Singer  Creek 
country  and  in  a  couple  of  hours  came  to  the  borders 
of  the  Deer  Creek  Flats. 

As  we  approached  the  level  land  of  the  Flats, 
we  spied  five  bears  busily  digging  on  an  open  space 
ahead.     I  knew  that  the  Indians  were  many  miles 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  65 

ahead  of  us,  so  I  suggested  to  the  boys  that  we  have 
some  fun  with  the  bears. 

"You  may  have  all  the  fun  you  like,"  said  Tom 
Gore,  ''but  please  wait  until  I  get  up  a  tree  before 
you  begin." 

Jack  Howser  was  of  the  same  way  of  thinking. 
I  laughed  at  them  and  told  them  to  shin  up  their 
trees,  but  to  leave  a  convenient  one  for  me  in  case 
I  should  need  it.  They  were  not  long  in  getting  up 
into  a  couple  of  oaks,  and  then  I  moved  cautiously 
out  toward  a  large  tree  which  enabled  me,  unseen, 
to  approach  within  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of 
the  feeding  bears.  This  tree  was  too  large  to  be 
easily  climbed,  which  was  the  reason  I  had  selected 
a  smaller  one  farther  back. 

The  bears  were  totally  unaware  of  our  presence. 
I  waited  until  the  largest  one  turned  full  side  toward 
me,  when  I  raised  my  rifle  and  let  her  have  it.  She 
slashed  at  her  ribs  with  her  teeth  and  sent  up  a  fierce 
bellow,  but  after  a  moment  seemed  to  recover  in  a 
measure.  At  the  very  least,  I  had  roused  her  curios- 
ity, for  she  reared  up  and  sat  upon  her  haunches, 
looking  extremely  vicious.  She  was  directly  facing 
me,  so  I  threw  a  second  ball  into  her.  Then  she 
caught  sight  of  me  and  charged.  I  ran  for  my  tree 
and  swung  myself  up  into  its  branches.  When  I 
thought  that  I  was  out  of  the  bear's  reach,  I  looked 
back  and  was  just  in  time  to  see  her  turn  end  for  end 
as  she  ran.  She  did  not  rise  and  I  afterward  found 
that  my  second  bullet  had  bitten  off  the  end  of  her 
heart. 


66  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

However,  the  other  bears  were  yet  to  be  reckoned 
with.  They  seemed  to  consist  of  two  two-year-olds 
and  two  yearlings,  probably  all  offspring  of  the  old 
one.  I  reloaded  my  rifle,  then  dropped  to  the  ground, 
Tom  and  Jack  yelling  at  me  as  though  they  thought 
I  was  as  good  as  eaten  alive.  One  of  the  bears  came 
a  short  distance  toward  me,  and  I  sank  on  one  knee, 
waited  until  it  was  within  forty  feet,  then  dropped 
it  dead  at  one  shot.  The  others  were  at  a  loss  what 
to  do.  While  they  continued  to  sniff  at  the  old  one 
and  to  toddle  about  in  perplexity,  I  killed  two  more 
of  them  and  crippled  the  fifth  one,  which  got  away. 

We  secured  the  gall-bladders  from  the  four  dead 
animals,  and  then  took  up  once  more  the  trail  of  the 
Indians.  I  had  little  hopes  of  being  able  to  overtake 
them  short  of  Mill  Creek  Canyon,  but,  of  course,  I 
had  to  follow  the  trail  in  order  to  make  sure. 

We  dropped  down  into  Deer  Creek  and  crossed 
this  stream,  as  we  had  on  several  previous  occasions, 
near  the  mouth  of  Sulphur  Creek.  Again  the  trail 
led  us  up  that  frightful  ascent  toward  the  wedge- 
like defile  in  the  upper  cliff,  and,  incredible  as  it 
may  see,  we  found  that  the  Indians  had  taken  the 
stolen  horse  up  that  way.  Tom  and  Jack  declared 
that  they  could  see  scars  upon  the  small  trees  where 
the  animal  had  hung  on  by  his  teeth.     - 

We  crossed  through  the  broad  canyons  of  Little 
and  Big  Dry  Creeks,  and  so  at  length  reached  the 
breaks  of  Mill  Creek.  From  here  we  could  see  for 
miles  over  the  wild  regions  of  that  great  canyon, 
and  I  told  the  boys  that  we  would  take  a  good  look 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  67 

before  going  farther,  as  there  were  ten  chances  to 
one  that  the  Indians  were  snuggled  away  somewhere 
under  our  feet. 

After  a  careful  observation,  I  at  length  discov- 
ered some  human  figures  moving  about  a  hillside, 
fully  two  miles  below  us.  We  scrutinized  them 
closely  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  a 
number  of  squaws,  gathering  grass-seed.  Their 
camp  was  nowhere  in  sight,  but  I  knew  that  we  could 
find  the  camp  by  watching  the  squaws. 

Bidding  the  boys  to  avoid  being  seen,  as  they 
would  avoid  a  pestilence,  I  led  them  down  the  long 
slope,  keeping  as  deeply  as  possible  within  the  shel- 
ter of  ravines  and  thickets.  In  this  way  we  were 
enabled  to  approach  within  three  hundred  yards  of 
the  squaws. 

We  were  lying  under  a  jutting  pile  of  rocks,  peer- 
ing out  at  them  and  picking  out  our  next  line  of  ad- 
vance, when  suddenly  a  signal  shout  was  heard,  com- 
ing from  some  point  above  us.  I  knew  at  once  that 
we  were  discovered  by  a  lookout.  The  squaws,  how- 
ever, paid  no  heed,  evidently  not  having  heard  the 
cry ;  but  in  a  moment  it  was  repeated,  and  this  time 
they  heard  it.  In  a  moment  they  were  scurrying 
down  the  hill. 

* '  Our  only  show  is  to  follow  them ! "  I  cried,  and 
springing  up  I  bounded  down  the  hill  in  pursuit.  I 
proved  to  be  a  swifter  runner  than  my  two  comrades 
and  soon  left  them  behind.  As  I  ran  I  heard  one  of 
them  shoot,  but  I  kept  on,  for  I  wanted  to  find  the 
Indians'  camp. 


68  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

The  fleeing  squaws  disappeared  over  a  brow  of 
the  ridge,  but  I  kept  on  down  the  point  which  led 
toward  the  creek,  and  all  at  once  I  came  within  full 
sight  of  the  camp.  It  lay  about  two  hundred  yards 
below  me  and  seemed  to  be  in  a  state  of  confusion. 
I  saw  Indians  flying  about,  trying  to  pile  articles 
upon  the  single  horse  that  stood  in  their  midst.  I 
could  see  that  there  were  many  bucks  present,  so 
waited  a  few  moments  for  Tom  and  Jack  to  join  me. 
They  failed  to  put  in  an  appearance,  however,  and 
I  knew  that  I  must  act  quickly  or  let  the  entire  party 
escape.  I  watched  for  a  good  chance  and  soon, 
drawing  down  on  a  big  fellow,  added  one  more  good 
Indian  to  the  list  with  the  first  shot. 

The  other  warriors  immediately  sprang  to  their 
guns  and,  locating  me  by  the  smoke  from  my  rifle, 
began  sending  bullets  whining  and  whistling  about 
me.  With  the  first  volley  they  disappeared,  drop- 
ping behind  the  rocks  and  bushes,  but  they  con- 
tinued to  find  the  way  to  my  position.  For  some 
time  we  exchanged  shots.  I  was  behind  a  tree  which 
was  not  more  than  eight  inches  in  diameter,  though 
there  were  moments  when  I  warmly  wished  that  it 
were  eight  feet.  However,  having  my  double-barrel, 
I  was  able  to  fool  them.  They  perceived  that  I  was 
alone,  and  frequently,  after  I  fired,  some  of  them 
would  expose  themselves  for  a  moment  in  seeking  to 
secure  better  cover,  and  each  time  they  made  this 
mistake  I  dropped  one  in  his  tracks  with  my  second 
barrel. 

At  length  Jack  and  Tom  came  down  to  where  I 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  69 

lay,  and  a  more  helpless  pair  of  Indian  fighters  I 
never  saw !  One  had  the  lock  wrenched  off  his  rifle, 
while  the  other  had  his  ramrod  broken  off  in  his  gun- 
barrel.  Neither  could  fire  a  shot.  At  that  time  I  had 
my  last  bullet  in  my  rifle,  but  luckily  Tom's  bullets 
were  the  same  calibre  as  mine.  I  quickly  deprived 
him  of  all  he  had,  and  just  at  that  moment  the  Mill 
Creeks  turned  loose  a  most  vicious  volley.  The  bul- 
lets plowed  and  hissed  among  the  rocks  beside  us, 
and  in  a  second  the  two  of  them  were  trying  to  hide 
with  me  behind  my  little  eight-inch  tree. 

I  told  them  that  our  only  show  was  to  charge  and 
put  the  Indians  on  the  run.  They  agreed  to  follow 
my  lead,  so  we  sprang  out  and  rushed  down  the  hill. 
The  Indians  broke  and  fled  and  we  gained  their  camp 
in  safety. 

''Now  hustle,"  said  I,  '*or  they  will  slip  back  and 
make  it  hot  for  us  from  that  brush ! " 

We  soon  had  the  recovered  horse  loaded  with 
such  articles  as  we  could  hastily  pick  up.  There 
was  a  pile  of  new  quilts  lying  beneath  a  tree,  prob- 
ably having  been  snatched  from  some  foothill  cabin, 
and  as  I  picked  one  of  them  up  a  lank  Indian  boy 
sprang  up  and  stood  watching  us  in  blank  surprise. 
He  had  slept  peacefully  through  the  entire  battle. 

''There's  your  chance!"  said  I  to  Tom  and  Jack. 
"If  you  want  to  kill  an  Indian  on  this  trip,  bag  that 
fellow." 

But  neither  of  them  would  raise  a  hand  against 
him,  and  we  went  away  and  left  him  staring  stupidly 
after  us. 


70  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

When  we  reached  the  top  of  the  ridge,  we  sat 
down  for  a  breathing  spell. 

''Well,  Bob,"  said  Jack,  ''how  many  of  those  fel- 
lows do  you  think  you  got  1    I  saw  two. ' ' 

"I  counted  three"  said  Tom, 

I  told  them  that  I  thought  there  were  six  or  seven 
scattered  along  the  hillside. 

We  struck  off  down  the  slope  of  the  foothills  and 
reached  the  valley  without  mishap.  We  went  by 
way  of  Hi  Good 's  cabin,  and  stopped  there  for  lunch. 
Hi  was  at  Jiome  and  listened  with  great  interest  to 
an  account  of  our  experiences.  He  remarked,  when 
we  had  finished : 

"You  fellows  can  consider  that  you  got  off  very 
lucky.  I  came  down  through  that  country  the  other 
day,  and  took  a  peep  at  that  camp,  and  there  were 
at  least  thirty  bucks  there.  I  guess  if  the  whole  party 
had  been  at  home  that  you  three  would  have  been 
left  in  the  hills." 

I  told  him  that  it  looked  to  me  like  there  were 
just  about  thirty  warriors  there  when  I  opened  fire 
upon  them. 

About  two  weeks  later.  Hi  came  one  day  to  my 
place.  He  said  that  a  squaw  had  come  to  his  place 
from  Mill  Creek,  a  few  days  after  we  had  paid  our 
visit  to  the  Indians'  camp,  and  had  told  him  that 
there  were  seven  killed  and  two  badly  wounded  in 
that  battle,  which  proved  that  my  estimate  had  not 
been  far  wrong. 


CAPTAIN  ANDERSON 

From  a  Photograph  Taken  in    1866 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  final  conflict  with  the  Mill  Creeks  occurred 
in  1865.  I  was  then  living  at  my  present 
home,  eight  miles  north  of  Chico.  About  the 
middle  of  August,  business  took  me  to  the  old  grist 
mill  that  stood  at  the  mouth  of  Butte  Creek  Canyon. 
I  made  the  trip  on  horseback. 

As  I  was  riding  up  Edgar  Slough,  I  noticed  a 
group  of  some  half  a  dozen  men  break  from  the 
woods  at  about  the  point  where  the  Schwein  slaugh- 
ter-house now  stands.  On  nearer  approach,  I  per- 
ceived that  they  were  all  strangers.  I  also  discov- 
ered that  they  were  all  armed  and  seemed  to  be  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement. 

''Have  you  seen  a  party  of  men  anywhere  on  the 
road  between  here  and  Chico?"  asked  one,  eagerly. 

''How  many?"  I  asked. 

"Six." 

"No.    What's  up?" 

"We're  after  Bidwell's  Indians!" 

Then  they  told  me  how  the  Indians  had  made  a 
raid  into  the  Concow  country,  had  killed  a  man  and 
two  women,  horribly  mutilating  the  latter,  had 
slaughtered  hogs  and  cattle  out  of  pure  cruelty,  and 
had  then  melted  away. 


72  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

''Why  do  you  think  it  the  work  of  the  Biclwell 
Indians?"  I  asked. 

''We  KNOW  it  is!  Their  trail  leads  straight  out 
through  the  hills  in  this  direction.  We  followed  it 
to  the  Johnson  place,  and  it  points  for  Chico.  Listen 
to  that  shooting,  boys!" — for  at  that  instant  a  shot 
or  two  and  some  cries  were  heard  from  toward  Chico 
Creek.  "Hurry  up!  let's  don't  miss  it  all!"  and 
they  were  about  to  rush  away. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  I,  "you  are  barking  up  the 
wrong  tree!" 

They  paused. 

"What  do  you  know  about  it?"  asked  one. 

"Simply  this:  That  trail  you've  been  following  is 
a  blind.  Bidwell's  Indians  haven't  been  near  Con- 
cow,  and  Bidwell's  Indians  haven't  killed  anyone.'* 

"Then  what  Indians  did  it?" 

"The  Mill  Creeks." 

They  had  all  heard  of  the  Mill  Creeks,  but  some 
were  still  in  doubt. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  one. 

I  told  him  my  name,  and  they  seemed  more  will- 
ing to  listen  to  me.  I  assured  them  that  the  Bidwell 
Indians  were  perfectly  quiet  and  well-behaved,  and 
that  the  Mill  Creeks  had  more  than  once  attempted 
to  saddle  some  of  their  own  crimes  upon  them.  I 
added  that  if  they  wished  to  find  the  real  culprits 
they  had  better  strike  for  the  canyon  of  Deer  Creek 
or  of  Mill  Creek. 

While  we  were  talking,  I  saw  a  group  of  men 
leave  the  woods  a  mile  or  so  east  of  us. 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  73 

' '  There  is  the  rest  of  your  outfit, ' '  I  said,  and  on 
approaching  and  joining  them  we  found  that  this 
was  true. 

With  this  new  party  was  one  Bill  Matthews ;  also 
a  young  man  named  Frank  Curtis,  who  was 
a  brother,  I  think,  of  Henry  Curtis,  who  then  con- 
ducted a  tannery  on  Rock  Creek,  and  with  whom  I 
was  well  acquainted. 

I  repeated  what  I  had  told  the  first-comers,  and 
told  them  that  they  would  surely  breed  trouble  for 
themselves  if  they  bothered  Bidwell's  Indians;  and, 
besides,  would  be  wasting  their  time  and  allowing 
the  real  culprits  to  escape. 

A  short  consultation  was  held  among  their  lead- 
ers, and  then  I  was  asked  if  I  would  lead  them  into 
the  Mill  Creek  country.  I  replied  that  I  had  business 
at  the  grist  mill,  but  that  I  would  ride  there  and 
return  as  soon  as  possible,  and  would  join  them  on 
Rock  Creek.  I  assured  them  that  there  was  not  one 
chance  in  a  hundred  of  our  overtaking  the  Indians 
short  of  Mill  Creek,  and  that  there  would  be  many 
miles  of  rough  country  to  travel  over  before  reach- 
ing that  point. 

I  finished  my  mission  at  the  mill,  and,  hurrying 
home,  moved  my  family  over  to  the  Gore  place  on 
Rock  Creek.  The  Concow  men  were  awaiting  me 
there,  and  we  started  next  morning.  Henry  Curtis 
had  joined  the  party  and  was  practically  leader  of 
the  Concow  force. 

I  told  Curtis  that  we  would  probably  strike  the 
trail  on  Deer  Creek  Flats,  so  we  headed  for  that 


74  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

region.  On  Deer  Creek  we  found  Hi  Good,  who 
^  promptly  Jfined  us.  We  reached  the  Flats  late  in 
the  afternoon,  and  there,  sure  enough,  we  found  a 
fresh  Indian  trail  leading  toward  the  north. 

We  made  camp  beside  the  spring,  on  the  Flats, 
and  while  gathered  about  the  camp-fire  before  re- 
tiring it  was  suggested  that  we  organize  by  electing 
a  captain.  I  was  elected  and  Good  was  chosen  sec- 
ond in  command. 

Next  morning  we  were  up  and  away  almost  with 
the  break  of  day.  In  order  to  make  sure  that  the 
Indians  had  not  dodged  to  right  or  left,  I  followed 
the  trail,  keeping  usually  about  two  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  the  main  party,  with  Hi  beside  me  as  my 
lookout.  In  this  way  we  filed  down  through  the 
wild  gorge  of  Deer  Creek,  across  that  stream,  and 
on  across  the  less  rugged  slopes  of  the  two  Dry 
Creeks,  and  so  by  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon reached  the  top  of  the  ridge  which  overlooks 
the  broad  canyon  of  Mill  Creek. 

Climbing  to  a  point  from  which  we  had  a  good 
outlook,  Good  and  I  made  a  close  inspection  of  the 
region  below  us.  At  length  the  glint  as  of  some 
bright  object  caught  my  eye  far  down  in  the  very 
bottom  of  the  canyon.  It  was  fully  three  miles  dis- 
tant. I  believed  it  to  be  the  sun  flashing  from  a  rifle- 
barrel  and  pointed  it  out  to  Hi.  Soon  we  saw  a  tiny 
white  object  move  down  the  side  of  a  little  rounded 
knoll  close  to  the  creek,  and  both  recognized  it  as 
a  human  figure. 

*  *  That 's  their  lookout, ' '  I  said,  ' '  and  I  believe  it 's 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  75 

Billy  Sill.  He  had  on  a  white  shirt  when  he  ran 
away.  They  are  camped  beside  those  three  little 
knolls  just  the  other  side  of  the  creek. ' ' 

^'Jiist  this  side,  you  mean,"  said  Hi. 

''No.     The  north  side." 

We  both  remembered  the  three  knobs,  but  could 
not  agree  as  to  which  side  of  the  stream  they  occu- 
pied, and  the  water  could  not  be  seen  from  where 
we  were  to  decide  the  matter.  We  argued  for  some 
time  and  at  length  Hi  said : 

''Well,  you're  the  doctor.     What  shall  we  do?" 

I  replied  that  we  would  swing  back  around  a  high 
point  on  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  march  down  to  the 
bottom  of  the  canyon,  cross  the  creek  a  half  mile  or 
more  below  the  three  knolls,  and  then  make  our  ad- 
vance by  moving  up-stream. 

This  plan  I  communicated  to  the  main  party.  We 
slipped  into  a  hidden  ravine  and  filed  slowly  and 
cautiously  downward  toward  the  bottom  of  the  can- 
yon, exercising  the  utmost  care  to  keep  from  falling 
under  the  eye  of  the  hawk-like  lookouts  that  we 
knew  were  stationed  on  lofty  points  here  and  there. 
The  ravine  was  very  brushy  and  strewn  with  bowl- 
ders, yet  at  times  we  had  to  crawl  on  our  hands  and 
knees  to  remain  hidden. 

At  last  we  accomplished  the  descent  successfully, 
and  waded  through  the  foaming  waters  of  Mill 
Creek  to  the  north  side.  We  were  still  a  good,  safe 
distance  below  where  I  knew  the  camp  must  be,  so 
I  ordered  that  the  entire  party  advance  slowly  up- 


76  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

stream.  We  moved  up  some  distance  from  the  creek 
and  kept  under  the  coves  that  headed  the  glades. 

A  little  before  actual  sunset,— the  sun  being  gone 
long  since  from  the  bottom  of  that  deep  canyon,— a 
number  of  moving  objects  on  the  hillside  below  us 
caught  my  eye.  I  gave  the  signal  to  lie  low,  and 
the  entire  party  sank  down  among  the  rocks. 

Soon  four  squaws  came  filing  along  a  dim  trail, 
wending  their  way  up  the  creek.  We  were  not  dis- 
covered, and  the  squaws  passed  on  around  a  bend  a 
few  hundred  yards  above  us  and  disappeared.  This 
made  Hi  and  I  feel  more  certain  than  ever  that  the 
Indians  were  camped  about  in  the  region  of  the 
three  knolls. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

I  MOVED  the  party  a  short  distance  farther  up- 
stream, then  grouped  them  beneath  the  spread- 
ing branches  of  an  oak  and  ordered  them  to  lie 
down  and  to  remain  absolutely  quiet,  until  I  should 
return. 

Selecting  Good  as  my  companion,  we  made  plans 
to  find  out,  if  possible,  the  exact  location  of  the 
camp.  We  removed  our  boots,  laid  aside  our  rifles, 
and,  with  only  our  revolvers  as  weapons,  slipped 
into  the  water  and  started  to  make  our  way  up- 
stream. Our  progress  was  extremely  slow.  The 
night  was  very  dark,  and  the  stream  was  turbulent 
and  filled  with  bowlders.  We  tried  to  keep  under 
the  bank  as  much  as  possible,  for  fear  of  brushing 
into  some  sentinel  above  it,  but  at  times  found  the 
water  too  deep  for  us,  when  we  were  compelled  to 
crawl  like  snakes  through  the  bordering  fringe  of 
trees  and  brush. 

Just  below  the  three  round-topped  knolls  the 
stream  broadened  into  a  natural  ford.  The  knolls 
stood  on  the  north  side  of  the  stream,  and  between 
them  and  the  ford  lay  a  flat  sand-bar.  At  length  we 
approached  this  broader  stretch  of  water.  The  bank 
broke  off  straight  to  the  water.  It  was  not  over 
three  feet  hio^h  and  was  clear  of  trees  and  brush. 


78  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

Suddenly  a  dog  broke  forth  into  wild  barking 
close  in  front  of  us,  and,  springing  toward  the  bank, 
bayed  furiously  in  our  very  faces.  We  could  feel  his 
hot  breath  and  could  have  struck  him  with  our  six- 
shooters  had  we  wished.  Instead  of  turning  about 
or  making  any  attempt  to  beat  a  retreat,  we  crouched 
still  for  a  minute  or  more,  while  the  dog  made  the 
echoes  of  that  deep  canyon  resound  with  his  cries  of 
defiance. 

Peering  over  the  bank  in  the  midst  of  this  up- 
roar, we  plainly  perceived  several  forms  rise  up  to 
sitting  postures  on  the  bar  in  front  of  us.  We  were 
almost  abreast  of  the  camp.  The  Indians  probably 
thought  that  the  dog  was  baying  some  wild  beast, 
for  none  of  them  nrose  to  investigate,  and  Good  and 
I  painstakingly  made  our  way  back  down-stream,  the 
dog  following  us  to  within  one  hundred  yards  of 
where  the  main  party  lay. 

Just  before  we  reached  the  point  where  we  had 
entered  the  stream,  Good,  in  some  way,  loosened  a 
heavy  stone  from  the  bank,  which  rolled  into  the 
water,  struck  his  bare  foot  and  crushed  off  a  toe- 
nail. I  helped  him  bandage  the  injured  member  witdi 
a  poultice  of  tobacco,  after  which  we  joined  the  rest 
of  the  party  and  made  our  plans  for  the  attack  upon 
the  Indians. 

We  decided  to  move  forward  just  in  time  to  get 
the  camp  surrounded  before  the  break  of  day.  Hi, 
with  six  men,  was  left  to  advance  upon  the  camp  in 
the  same  manner  that  he  and  I  had  already  adopted, 
while  I  took  the  balance  of  the  force  for  a  detour 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  79 

which  would  bring  us  against  the  Indians  from  the 
up-stream  side. 

We  had  a  difficult  climb,  for  we  were  compelled 
to  swing  some  distance  up  the  rough  hillside  in  order 
to  avoid  springing  an  alarm,  but  made  it  success- 
fully. As  day  began  to  peep  oyer  the  high  walls  of 
the  canyon,  I  found  myself  lying  about  thirty  feet 
above  one  of  the  three  little  knolls  that  had  served 
us  so  well  as  land-marks.  I  had  left  orders  for  Hi's 
party  to  lie  quiet  and  let  us  make  the  attack.  This 
would  throw  the  Indians  onto  the  bar  next  the  open 
ford,  where  they  would  be  completely  at  the  mercy^ 
of  both  our  forces.  viS^'-OU  uiDT  A.Ji 

It  grew  lighter  and  still  no  sound  disturbed  the 
morning  excepting  the  incessant  roar  of  the  nearby 
stream.  Henry  Curtis  was  close  to  my  right.  Sud- 
denly he  chirped  like  a  bird.  I  glanced  toward  him 
and  saw  him  pointing  toward  the  top  of  the  knoll. 
Turning  my  eyes  thither  I  was  just  in  time  to  see  the 
half-breed,  Billy  Sill,  lowering  his  rifle  in  a  line  with 
my  head.  I  rolled  behind  a  tree,  and  the  half-breed, 
knowing  that  he  was  seen,  sank  out  of  sight  behind 
a  rock.  I  had  ample  time,  in  the  glimpse  I  caught  of 
him,  to  see  that  he  still  wore  a  white  shirt. 

Almost  on  the  instant  that  he  disappeared.  Good 's 
rifle  cracked,  and  the  fight  was  on.  We  crowded  for- 
ward and  poured  a  hot  fire  into  the  Indians  from  up- 
stream, while  Good's  men  hammered  them  from  be- 
low. Into  the  stream  they  leaped,  but  few  got  out 
alive.  Instead,  many  dead  bodies  floated  down  the 
rapid  current. 


80  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

Billy  Sill  made  a  break  to  escape  by  leaping 
straight  up  the  mountain- side.  Several  shot  at  him, 
but  missed.  I  swung  my  rifle  on  him  and  cut  him 
down  just  as  he  was  about  to  spring  into  a  thicket. 
As  he  rolled  toward  the  creek  he  cursed  me  veno- 
mously with  his  last  breath.  He  was  known  to  many 
of  us,  having  lived  from  childhood  with  Uncle  Dan 
Sill.  He  had  been  herding  sheep  for  Sill  a  short  time 
before  this,  when  one  day  he  left  the  band  and  joined 
the  Mill  Creeks. 

This  battle  practically  ended  the  scourge  of  the 
Mill  Creeks.  I  had  often  argued  with  Good  regard- 
ing the  disposition  of  the  Indians.  He  believed  in 
killing  every  man  or  well-grown  boy,  but  in  leaving 
the  women  unmolested  in  their  mountain  retreats. 
It  was  plain  to  me  that  we  must  also  get  rid  of  the 
women.  On  this  occasion  the  Concow  people  were 
intensely  wrought  up  over  the  horrible  atrocities 
practiced  by  the  Indians  on  the  white  women  whom 
they  killed,  and  I  had  told  them  that  they  were  at 
liberty  to  deal  with  the  Indians  as  they  saw  fit. 

While  ransacking  the  camp  after  the  battle  was 
over,  a  little  child  possessing  six  toes  on  each  foot 
was  found.  Hi  Good  at  once  took  a  notion  to  the 
child  and  said  that  he  wished  to  take  it  home  with 
him.  KJnowing  that  he  had  odd  tastes  about  such 
things,  I  consented,  whereupon  he  declared  that  he 
must  take  along  a  squaw  to  carry  the  child.  I  asked 
Curtis  what  his  pleasure  was  in  the  matter,  and,  after 
consulting  with  some  of  his  own  party,  he  grudgingly 
agreed. 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  81 

The  woman  selected  for  the  purpose  was  slightly 
wounded  in  the  heel.  She  packed  the  youngster  in 
stolid  silence  up  the  long  hill,  and  over  its  crest  into 
Twenty-Mile  Hollow.  Here,  however,  she  became 
sullen  and  refused  to  go  a  step  farther.  I  gave  her 
over  to  the  Concow  people  and  they  left  her  to  swell 
the  number  of  the  dead. 

If  I  remember  correctly,  one  of  the  women  mur- 
dered by  the  Indians  at  Concow  had  recently  come 
over  from  England  and  had  in  her  possession  several 
hundred  dollars  in  English  sovereigns.  This  money 
was  taken  by  the  murderers,  but  we  failed  to  find 
any  of  it. 

However,  at  this  time  Sandy  Young  was  stopping 
at  Big  Meadows,  in  charge  of  the  Bidwell  stock.  The 
marauding  Mill  Creeks,  in  the  course  of  their  raid, 
had  swung  around  by  the  Meadows,  where  they  had 
killed  a  number  of  the  Indians  of  that  region  and 
carried  away  a  number  of  squaws. 

The  Big  Meadows  red-men  were  afraid  of  their 
desperate  enemies,  and  would  not  take  the  field 
against  them  except  under  Young's  leadership.  Con- 
sequently, the  latter  got  a  force  together  and  came 
down  through  Deer  Creek  Meadows  and  Onion  Creek 
and  so  along  the  Lassen  Trail  to  Bluff  Camp,  where 
they  swung  into  Mill  Creek  Canyon. 

They  reached  the  old  camp  at  the  three  knolls 
just  three  days  after  we  had  been  there.  Sandy  said 
that  it  looked  as  though  a  cyclone  had  struck  that 
spot.  In  making  a  search  over  the  battle-ground  he 
found  where  something  had  been  buried  in  the  sand 


82  Figrhting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

and  a  fire  made  above  it  to  hide  the  spot.  Examiinng 
it  closely,  he  unearthed  an  English  sovereign.  The 
balance  of  the  money  had  evidently  been  dug  up  and 
carried  away  by  the  survivors  among  the  Indians, 
and  probably  today  lies  hidden  away  in  some  one  of 
the  many  caverns  of  that  mighty  canyon. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IT  was  well  known  that  several  bucks  and  a  num- 
ber of  squaws  and  children  escaped  during  that 
last  fight  at  the  three  knolls.  They  remained  hid- 
den away  in  the  depth  of  the  canyons,  sallying  out 
occasionally  to  plunder  foothill  cabins,  but  dealing 
no  more  death  to  the  white  man.  Their  reign  of  mis- 
chief-making seemed  to  be  at  an  end,  and  yet  were 
they  to  be  heard  from,  at  least  indirectly,  once  mOre. 

After  many  months  a  number  of  squaws  humbly 
presented  themselves  to  Hi  Good  and  told  him  that 
the  entire  remnant  of  the  tribe  would  surrender  if 
assured  of  his  protection.  Hi  was  then  living  on  Dry 
Creek.  Negotiations  were  carried  on  for  some  time, 
and  at  length  two  bucks  and  three  squaws,  with  a 
number  of  children,  moved  down  to  Good's  place 
and  told  him  that  they  were  ready  to  be  taken  to  the 
Reservation. 

However,  reduced  as  they  were  to  this  pitiful 
handful,  their  innate  treachery  had  not  been  beaten 
out  of  them.  Living  with  Good  was  an  Indian  boy 
whom  he  had  raised  from  childhood.  This  boy  was 
now  about  sixteen,  and  I  have  never  had  a  doubt 
that  he  was  influenced  by  the  older  Indians  to  turn 
traitor  against  the  man  who  had  given  him  a  home. 

With  genuine  Indian  patience  he  watched  and 


84  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

waited  for  his  opportunity.  It  came  one  day  when 
Good  rode  over  to  the  Carter  place  on  Deer  Creek 
for  vegetables.  After  he  was  gone,  the  Indian  boy 
took  Hi's  rifle  and  slipped  after  him.  He  met  Good 
returning  near  Acorn  Hollow,  a  brush-sided  ravine 
that  puts  out  from  the  hills  less  than  a  mile  north  of 
Deer  Creek. 

Hi  was  walking  and  leading  his  horse  by  means  of 
the  bridle-rein,  the  animal  carrying  a  sack  of  garden 
stuff.  The  Indian  permitted  his  victim  to  get  within 
easy  range,  when,  from  his  hidden  lair,  he  took  de- 
liberate aim  and  fired.  Good  fell,  but  rose  again  and 
started  toward  his  assailant.  The  Indian,  being  un- 
injured, easily  kept  out  of  his  grasp,  and  a  second 
and  a  third  bullet  he  drove  into  the  white  man's 
body  before  the  latter  sank  down  dead. 

The  murderer  then  tried  to  dispose  of  the  body. 
He  placed  a  rope  around  the  dead  man,  and,  looping 
it  to  the  saddle-horn,  dragged  the  body  some  dis- 
tance up  the  hollow,  rolled  it  over  a  step  bank,  then, 
climbing  down,  piled  stones  upon  it. 

The  older  Indians  at  once  fled  to  the  hills,  but 
the  boy,  if  he  went  with  them,  soon  returned  to  Dry 
Creek.  Inquiries  for  Good  were  soon  made  and  the 
conduct  of  the  Indian  boy  excited  suspicion.  He 
had  an  unusual  amount  of  money  in  his  possession, 
and  was  foimd  to  be  wearing  a  large  silver  ring  of 
Hi's  upon  his  finger.  Furthermore,  he  boastfully 
carried  Hi's  rifle  about  with  him. 

Friends  instituted  a  search  and  the  body  was 
soon  found.     The  Indian  boy  was  taken  to  Acorn 


Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks.  85 

Hollow  by  Sandy  Young  and  a  number  of  others. 
When  shown  the  dead  body,  he  at  first  denied  all 
knowledge  of  the  crime ;  but  soon  his  manner  altered 
and  he  calmly  made  a  full  confession,  and  even  led 
the  whites  to  the  spot  where  the  fatal  shots  had  been 
fired,  and  explained  every  step  gf  the  tragedy. 

After  all  had  been  told,  Sandy  significantly 
picked  up  his  rifle,  and  his  companions  slipped  away, 
knowing  that  an  act  of  retributive  justice  was  about 
to  be  enacted.  Soon  the  sharp  crack  of  the  rifle  rang 
out  above  the  chaparral  and  the  last  chapter  in  the 
tragic  death  of  Hi  Good  had  been  written. 

A  word  as  to  the  other  members  of  our  party  who 
trailed  and  fought  the  Indians  through  so  many  hard 
days.  Breckenridge  went  to  the  lower  country, 
where  he  met  his  death  in  a  campaign  against  the 
Indians  of  Arizona.  Simmons,  Martin  and  Williams 
drifted  to  other  regions,  where  I  lost  all  trace  of 
them.  ''Bully"  went  to  Nevada,  where  he  secured 
employment  as  hunter  for  a  force  of  soldiers.  While 
so  employed,  he  one  day  met  a  group  of  Piute  In- 
dians. They  exchanged  cordial  greetings  as  they 
rode  past,  but  after  riding  a  few  rods  they  suddenly 
whirled  and  shot  him  in  the  back,  killing  him  in- 
stantly. 

Sandy  Young  lived  in  Chico  for  a  number  of 
years  after  most  of  the  others  had  passed  away. 
Finally,  in  company  with  Dan  Sutherland,  he  went 
to  the  Klamath  River  and  engaged  in  mining.  There 
he  mysteriously  disappeared.  His  body  was  never 
found,    but    it    is    generally  believed  that  he  was 


86  Fighting  the  Mill  Creeks. 

treacherously  murdered  and  his  body  disposed  of  in 
some  remote  portion  of  that  wild  country. 

It  is  but  just  that  I  should  mention,  in  closing,  the 
circumstances  which  raised  the  hand  of  the  Mill 
Creek  forever  against  the  white.  As  in  almost  every 
similar  instance  in  American  history,  the  first  act 
of  injustice,  the  first  spilling  of  blood,  must  be  laid 
at  the  white  man's  door. 

A  party  of  the  Indians  were  encamped  at  the  Car- 
ter place  on  Deer  Creek,  being  employed  as  work- 
men by  the  Carter  brothers.  Some  among  them 
killed  a  cow  brute  belonging  to  the  white  men.  The 
Carters  got  a  small  party  together,  followed  the  In- 
dians up  to  a  foothill  camp,  and  attacked  them  with- 
out giving  the  latter  a  chance  to  explain  their  action, 
or  make  good  the  loss  of  the  slaughtered  animal. 
Several  Indians  and  one  white  man  were  killed,  and 
the  fires  of  hatred  kindled  in  the  heart  of  the  savage 
were  such  as  could  be  quenched  only  in  the  one  way. 

A  remnant  of  the  Indians  who  caused  so  much 
uneasiness  in  those  early  days  still  remains  hidden 
away  in  the  dark  caverns  of  the  hills.  They  haunt 
that  stretch  of  country  from  Deer  Creek  to  Mill 
Creek,  making  stealthy  descents  upon  the  cabin  of 
the  white  man,  but  committing  no  serious  crimes. 
They  have  developed  the  art  of  hiding  to  a  perfec- 
tion greater  than  that  of  the  beasts  of  the  woods, 
and,  while  in  no  wise  dangerous,  they  are  probably 
today  the  wildest  people  in  America. 


